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Summary
But then the back of his hand hits Ratio’s.
It’s an accident—it always is when it’s the two of them—but the result is the same.
… his hands are surprisingly soft.
It is not an insult or crass comment. It is not something superficial or sharp. It isn’t even belittling. No, the words that sound just like Ratio that flutter around in his head are so agonizingly gentle that Aventurine swears he feels dizzy from it.
Or, Aventurine temporarily acquires the ability to not only read the minds of the cat cakes, but also those around him. Ratio's thoughts are far kinder than Aventurine had anticipated. It may just be the impetus they need to finally clear the air.