When one lived one's life relying on the four senses other than sight, one became sensitive to atmosphere, but it still took a few hours before Ignis realized that something was very different about the hotel. Perhaps it was because he had, as usual, woken up at or before dawn and made his way to the kitchens to prepare for everyone else to wake up wanting breakfast. Or wake up wanting lunch. Or what have you. But as the other residents of the Inn started to wake up and move around, Ignis noticed that the sounds were quite a bit different. Thumps in different places, moans and noises rather than quiet conversation-buzz. Bluntly rather fleshy noises.

It was... disconcerting. Not embarrassing, no - while his own life had always been too busy and separate to allow distraction, he'd spent enough time with others whose lives and personalities allowed for such to have learned how to politely ignore. Still, it was private lives apparently being played out in public areas, and 'disconcerting' was a good word.

Still, the habits he'd learned as a youth stood him in good stead again. Walk around the couples, politely ignore the goings-on, make small adjustments to ensure their lives would be easier during the times they came up for air. Sandwiches, cut vegetables, and cut fruit suitable to be eaten quickly or left for 'later'. Soup that could be reheated without damaging the flavor. And plenty of coffee, though that was largely for him, because that was one pleasure he could have.

The voice was familiar-ish - one of the many residents Ignis had heard but not spoken to particularly, for a certainty. Not that the list of those Ignis had particularly spoken to was especially long, of course - when one spent the better part of a decade in total solitude, living among others again clearly took a longer adjustment than was entirely polite.

Ah well. It was hardly important, this was not a personal conversation. He turned his head enough to be facing the voice, as it was more polite to 'look' where you were speaking than not. "Certainly. If you've a request, I'll prepare it directly. The pantries are well-stocked, so I daresay most reasonable requests can be accommodated."

"Ah...." Ignis was slightly taken aback. Not because the tone was unfamiliar, because it wasn't; he'd heard it many times, from Prompto to whatever current crush, from various girls and women to Gladio, from Iris to Noctis, or Noctis when speaking of Lunafreya. No, the tone itself was very familiar, that warm smiling tone. Put simply, it had never been directed at him, of all people.

"I... don't?" The words were honest enough and close enough to a question to almost make him cringe, more so because their not-quite-joined hands were also making Ignis wish he had anything... clever, maybe, to say. Certainly an observation that the other man had an extremely pleasant voice would be out of place, likewise anything along the lines of suddenly being rather pleased that the practical decision to eschew gloves in this kitchen was now allowing him to really feel....

Nonsense. He tried for something brisk and ended up... somewhere else. "Something that can be prepared one-handed, I expect, as you've captured the other."

It was probably a measure of his surprise, part of Ignis thought, that he didn't react to the shattering dishes. A man climbing onto the counter should have earned more of a reaction even than that, and taking his glasses as well... really, he should have stopped the whole thing as soon as that warm hand started up his arm. Should have stepped away, reestablished the impersonal (did either of them even know the other's name?), should have....

But of course, Ignis didn't do any of that. Instead, he marveled at the grace that could move a body from beside him to before and above him with, as far as he could tell, only a gentle brace to the back of Ignis's neck as an anchor. And he responded almost embarrassingly quickly to the mouth on his, moving to taste the other man in return as his own hand slid and found a resting-place on... yes, that was definitely a man's waist.

Thinking about anything other than how to get back to the sudden but shockingly welcome intimacy felt monumentally difficult, but Ignis was used to discipline and forced his mind into gear at the question. Whether or not it was actually addressed to him, the question itself was meaningful in one specific way: the other had not been in his right mind during the brief interlude. Had he been, there would be no need to ask what he was doing, he would already know.

It was, in all, less harmful than the delusions that had ended in Noct flinging Prompto - a dear friend - off a moving train. True, there was some little pain to Ignis himself, it was an old pain that could be crushed down and ignored quite easily. He'd known better, or should have, and gone ahead anyway. For reasons that would bear considering, however unimportant in practical terms they were likely to be.

Regretfully, he traced the other's arm just to reach the hand that yes, still had his shades, take them back, and slide them back on, covering his eyes and a portion of old scars once again. Thus re-armored, he attempted lightness. "Breaking dishes, climbing on my counter, and borrowing glasses, among other things."

"No apologies required." Really, they were only a reminder of the various unrealities involved in the whole thing. "The last time I experienced someone being compelled to act against their actual will, a dear friend ended up flung off a moving train, captured, and tortured." And it had been, all things considered, the purest good fortune that they'd recovered Prompto alive if not precisely unharmed. Ignis paired the explanation with casually redoing the buttons on his shirt that had been... undone. More armor, returning to the straightforward (and empty) normal becoming easier and easier moment by moment.

"This is decidedly not that, my name is Ignis," and his head turned at the distinctive shower of clinks of ceramic bits being gathered, "and you'll drop those, please. I've a broom somewhere around here, and adding your blood to broken glass would only call for a mop as well."

"Neither, in truth." Though the compliment, however little it meant as anything other than playing along, was secretly, stupidly warming. "I'm simply practical." Ignis shrugged slightly and moved to fetch the broom he'd mentioned, as well as some items to clean off the countertop in case food needed to rest there again. "I should have realized something was wrong from the start, given everything. In that light, it's far more appropriate I apologize to you. And, incidentally-"

Ignis called one of his daggers to the hand not gripping a broom as he passed the other man's presence, held it up, then dropped it back into the armory quickly enough to be demonstration, not threat. "I assure you that if I'd had any objections you would be feeling them in your spleen."

It was one of the pleasant things about the Inn, added to 'the sun actually rises' and 'no daemons so far', the general politeness of the residents. Most people had, Ignis thought, learned quickly to speak or make some kind of noise when approaching him. He preferred to ignore his deficiency as much as possible, and his current housemates - so to speak - respected that.

"I can't judge the color, but there is indeed coffee." Most likely it was dark enough to be nearly black even in a spoon, because in the absence of complaints Ignis made the kind of coffee he himself liked. Without waiting to be asked, he retrieved a mug (with the ease granted by several hours of rote memorization followed by six weeks of making this kitchen his territory), poured coffee into it, and offered it in the woman's direction.

The hand sliding up his arm evoked none of the thrill he'd felt when Vax had done the same, none of the desire to continue, and when her body pressed against hiss all Ignis could think of was how to step away and explain her mistake.

Except he'd been leaning against the counter, and just moving would either bring her with him or risk dumping her on the floor. And on top of that... quite probably she was out of her senses the same way Vax had been. It would pass quickly enough, and he had no idea what happened if the bespelled one was thwarted.

So he kept still.

He'd needed no apology from Vax, and indeed did not need one from this woman. Neither had been in their right minds, as neither would have looked twice in them. He was uninjured, thoroughly unharmed in fact, save for some little confirmation of self-discovery. Which was not harmful, however useless the knowledge that in at least his limited number of test cases he had no interest in women was likely to remain.

Still, this apology felt different, somehow, so rather than dismissing it, he simply replied, "Apology accepted. This sort of thing appears to be going around today." If two people had latched on to him, how much worse must it be for more appealing folk?

"Distress? No." Not distress, exactly. It had been over too quickly for that, and he hadn't exactly realized his disinterest before. There was clearly a difference between lack of opportunity and lack of desire. As educational as Vax had been, in a different way.

A faint coppery scent he recognized as blood hit the air, and he frowned slightly before going for one of the first-aid kits he'd stashed around the room. Blood in a kitchen was always worrying, if only due to the possibility of contamination.

"Indeed, you're the second. The poor fellow before you was nearly as apologetic, after." 'Nearly' only because he hadn't actually sliced himself somehow, and the woman clearly had. Ignis offered the first-aid kit to her. "Would you wrap whatever's bleeding, please? My sense of smell isn't nearly good enough to clean only affected spots, I'd have to scrub the entire area to be sure."

"Perhaps so. Still, none of us are injured, and neither of the two of you was forced to continue the unwanted contact." There was no need, at present, to doubt her word about the blood, so Ignis just nodded. "Do you need more coffee, then?" If what she'd had had ended up bloodied.