A hand on Eridan’s shoulder or his lower back, the way Castien’s telepathic mark lingered on him long after they parted, the way he kept Eridan close to him, taking him with him to his meetings… If Eridan didn’t know better, if Castien wasn’t Castien, he would think… he would think his Master was feeling a little clingy. A little possessive. Or something. They didn’t talk about it. Just like they didn’t talk again about their ugly argument before Tethru’s death. Just like they didn’t talk about the fact that they wanted each other in the basest sense of the word.