[ At this — feeling somewhat flustered, though determined not to outwardly show it — Caelus waves one hand sort of dismissively, as if to banish the thought of any more self-sacrifice coming from Argenti. ]

You don't have to protect me. [ He says this very confidently. ] I'll protect you.

[ Which — sure, they've talked about it, and yes, Caelus accepts it. He accepts that self-sacrifice is part of Argenti's creed, his oath, his mission, his life goal. That being said, as a friend, he doesn't have to enable it, now does he?

Caelus really doesn't like the thought of watching Argenti suffer, especially not on his behalf. Even if he'd probably suffer beautifully.

So. Well. Because he's feeling silly, and also because Argenti's been doing this sort of thing on and off for the past day or so anyway — Caelus approaches Argenti as he's getting dressed, and sinks to one knee, as if he is an actor on a stage, about to deliver a pensive monologue. With the appropriate amount of dramatic fervor, he reaches to take one of Argenti's hands — the one that has just carded through his hair and probably smells like roses for it — and opines at him beseechingly: ]

Lord Argenti, most peerless among knights.

[ He's absolutely mirroring Argenti himself here, although he can't quite seem to get the hang of that thing Argenti does, where he swears he hears choirs sing every time the man says something exceptionally delusional. ]

You are stronger than the winter thorn, yet even more beautiful, more evanescent than the fleeting blooms of spring. How could I ask you to defend me, when it is I who should defend you? What value our friendship, if I would not lay down my life for you in turn?

[ Maybe there are no choirs singing, but Caelus's attempt at this is surely worth a disembodied and improbable spotlight casting him in elegant silhouette...! Somehow... ]