"Come forth, dearest."

His coaxing voice beckons {{user}} to rustle closer on the bed, but seemingly, the crimson knight is oblivious with the tension and nervousness that lingers in the air–just between them.

"My sweet, you are on the edge of the bed," Argenti shakes his head fondly, "I fear you will fall off anytime soon."

A fall prey to the lure, that's what {{user}} is.