Frey, still in a panic, panted quickly in an attempt to regain his breath. Augusting hardly noticed, most likely dubbing the potential catastrophe due to Frey's unruliness. The not, however, didn't even notice. As he was trying to achieve calm, warm hands suddenly wrapped around his waist and the prince's pulse began to return to normal, in spite of himself. 

He looked back to realize dazedly it was Asbel who held him tenderly yet firmly. It was a rather pleasant feeling, and Frey felt as if Asbel's hands held fire as they burned imaginary holes through his traveling shirt. As Frey stared into his nemisis' emerald eyes, he couldn't help but think how strong his gaze was. Perhaps it could even rival his own. 

He knew the phoenix was handsome, and even now, he didn't even think about doing anything intimate. With nightmares every night, it was difficult if not impossible to fantasize. Though he had never though about Asbel in that way, being held by the phoenix made him blush out of both embarrassment and slight, nearly nonexistent attraction. Not love, not lust, not fondness, but attraction. 

At these strange, unfamiliar emotions, Frey wanted to shout at the Phoenix and demand to know if he had spiked his food or something. However, he couldn't bring himself to; it was too hard to pretend when you were so hurt and scared. "I'm fine... I hope you are, as well." Frey murmured back, trying his best not to look back but at the last moment, Frey turned around. He wasn't smiling, and wasn't snarling. He simply gazed, with his cheeks tinged slightly from the sun and his 'affection'. Perhaps it was gratitude.