Davrin pulled back enough so he could see Lucanis' reaction to the translation, no bashfulness or hesitation in sight. Just a somewhat teasing grin as he used the hand in his hair to push any wandering strands away from his face, taking in the gorgeous image below him.

"My little dagger."

He'd named his griffon, the only other living creature he'd ever sworn to care for, arrow. So he was a predictable elf. He could live with that.