( WIth Lalli's voice getting progressively more and more quiet as he goes on, Emil listens intently. This is...a lot. Most of it he already knows, whether consciously or subconsciously, but they're still very weighty words.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, if he says what he wants to with telepathy, he knows it'll come out in one big glob of mush. He's not so used to having taut, sharp emotions that make it easier to control what he feels and how much of it seeps out. If he wants to make sure what he says is pointed, he has to do it with words. )

Lalli... I. You. ( Well, he's speaking his feelings, but it's not like he's good at that either. Mmmmm how do you talk when it feels like someone poured syrup down your throat. ) When you talked about things like that before, I didn't think you liked them or ever wanted to...I don't know. Be like that with anyone. Don't you think it's stupid and gross?

( He's been sitting on Lalli's bed this whole time, his hands moving from his lap to gripping the mattress tightly. He can do this, just keep going. Being a mess for two days can't be totally for naught. ) I like you a lot -- I think I do! I don't know a lot about it, but...do you like me?