The moment he does, Sizhui's fingers apply somewhat firmer pressure, sliding up and around to gently hook his arm, the pad of his thumb still thoughtlessly rubbing. Here's hoping it's as comforting as Jiang Cheng brushing through his hair.

He bites his cheek, stifling another grin though not entirely, given the way his lips quirk slightly at the edges. With a nod, he acknowledges, “Yes, sir.” All the while considering if he really, truly wants to move.

Something, another sensation he can't explain, tells him to do it without question, even though it means he'll have to go somewhere for tea before heading back. “Although... mmn, it's going to be difficult, removing myself from such a comfortable spot.” As if emphasis is needed, Sizhui sinks down into the comforter again and slumps back against the chair with a contented sigh.