[Ignis frowns at the tap on his head, but is spared having to ask what was used when the item is pressed into his hand.]

A walking stick.

[The words are a soft, surprised statement left hanging as Ignis' fingers travel over the many markings adorning the carved wood. A brief smile flickers across his face when he finds the initials, and then his expression becomes something a little more questioning as he runs his fingers over the other markings a second time.]

I recognize these. They're from Steyliff Grove, aren't they?

[He huffs under his breath, carefully swinging the stick out to test its balance.]

The image of you wearing one as a hat is also amusing.

[But...]

Right. It would be terrible if I thought that you did it because you cared even a little about my comfort or safety.

[Feeeeeeelings. What are feeeeeelings?]