[ The cat is effectively out of the bag, and the excuses he could have made for himself seem largely moot in the face of this development. There's a nervous fidget, out of shyness or unease, he doesn't know— Oona's weight suddenly feels too prevalent, and he takes a moment to avert his gaze towards the wall, as if it could give him an answer as to how he should deal with this situation.

The wall remains a wall, and Oona remains Oona. The only difference from the usual is that she's blushing, and Adolf confirms that by brushing his knuckles along the side of her cheek to feel the warmth spreading there. ]

Well. [ He's buying time, browsing through his limited lexicon for something that's appropriate. Maybe he's thinking too much. ] I'm never bored, when I'm watching you.

[ Smooth... but no, he's being as honest as he can. A long sigh, and he pulls Oona forward to settle her face in the crook of his neck. ]

You said that it isn't difficulty to talk to me, even if I don't say much. [ Which is something he remembers, because he keeps a lot of things to hearts despite pretending that he doesn't. ] The same goes for me. You don't have to do much for me to be interested.

[ Regrets, he has a few. ]