A quick breath huffs through him, mostly through his nostrils, only a huff a bull could make, and he butts his forehead against Darkleer's head.

"Yeah yeah- when aren't either of us?" Said with a nervous chuckle as he shoves at him a little, like either the head butt or shove had any sort of effect on the statue of troll he was currently resting his prat on.

There's another slight laugh before a sigh, and he's thinking, and he's wishing he wasn't thinking. Living by instinct and impulse was so much easier but when it came down to it- he wasn't really an impulsive person. Such a word could be given to a few unnamed higher blood trolls, but not him. So he's thinking, and feeling his gut churn again and he hates it, that sick feeling. So instead Lysunder clings to his matesprit and sighs again, something more distraught before he's shaking his head.

"You lot, you drive those around you crazy, you know that?" You lot, 'you lot', could mean plenty really.