Drina waved as more people came and went for the bowls, reaching his arms for the pot and gingerly placing it at a more accessible area so that anyone that wished for seconds could get to it. Just as he turned to see if Azga needed anything, their hands were suddenly touching. It never failed to impress Drina how easily the golden haired troupe master easily stuck a quickened heartbeat in him. 

"Ah," started the long haired male at Azga's rhetoric, his piercing gaze striking a the heart. "I-" before Drina could so much as finish his sentence, he was being swept up and away in exchange of glittering lights to the back of his carriage. "Azga?" asked the younger man curiously before his breath caught in his throat. Oh. Well...a look at his hands reminded him that they did throb whenever he did anything, and besides it couldn't hurt to be spoon fed like this, and there was also that part about Azga not feeding himself until Drina ate and that wouldn't be good.

"Okay," said Drina simply, no sign of his inner turmoil in his calm voice as he gently reached a hand to lightly grip Azga's wrist, opening his mouth to take in the soup. His tongue was lightly burned, but nothing worse than his hands. As soon as he swallowed, however, a surge of guilt welled in him. What was he doing? Clearly Azga was in much more need. Drina could feed himself anytime while cooking, with food that hadn't been mixed with his magic. Didn't he make everything for th sake of keeping the troupe healthy? 

When he looked at Azga to urge him to eat in his stead however, Drina's voice failed him and he instead took another spoonful. "You really should eat," finally managed the long haired boy, steam practically rising from his warmed chest, "I'm sure I can handle myself quite fine." Even as he finished the sentence his hands throbbed, though he wasn't sure if it was from the actual pain or his mind trying to come up with reasons for Azga to stay.