Yes, and you're humble, too. Is that what your race is called? Kitsune?

[ Percival's brows furrow at the request, but he's not really in a position to refuse. Not when the mistletoe hangs above them and is apparently content with the way things are going. ]

I suppose they are quite soft. Like velvet, almost. [ And warm, he notes, while tracing the outline of his ear idly. ] Are you satisfied?