Names are a courtesy unknown to Ryoto; though, Yvan may as well be known by something like "Hey", "You" or even the sound of a sharp whistle, once Ryoto had puzzled out how to make such a noise. Hardly anyone else exists in its general sphere of being, so it's just so utterly unimportant to know at all.
Same as it's so utterly unimportant to really do anything at all— and yet, here Yvan lies: "I'm bored."
Ryoto makes a show of tossing its head, grumbling listlessly. The slight quirk of its lips says otherwise about any true disgruntlement or effort to free its budding horns from Yvan's clawed grasp. It sprawls further in the grass, stretching in place and threatening to turn onto its side and dump the other down onto it.
Peering up at him through a half-closed eye, the dragon mumbles, "So comfy, though…"
@Yvan
The th-thwap! of its tail veers straight into the realm of the playful when Yvan makes the unfortunate decisions to: a.) Put into mind the idea of biting; and, b.) Leave his hand within range of such a disgrace. Ryoto growls softly as it executes the kill order and nips at a smooth-scaled wrist.
In the same breath, it fully commits to its efforts to roll onto its side— and shoves itself the rest of the way in a, frankly, lazy grab at trapping Yvan underneath it. It's sure that it'll succeed in no capacity there, but…
Ryoto heaves a great sigh, a veritable mountain of hair and rather much like a deeply-affected dog. "Mm, bite mmme then. … I like sleeping 'n doin' nothin'..." Especially with all of the eating and growing that it's had to do lately…
@Yvan
There is absolutely zero pacific intent in the way that Ryoto stretches its arms and legs once more— the former far from Yvan's head and making any effort to stop his struggling. It's a completely languid gesture, given that that fluffy mane of its completes its evolutionary, God-given purpose and leaves it barely feeling the "murder" attempt.
Chunky baby fangs bare in a sleepy grin as it shoves itself back onto its back and therefore frees poor Yvan from his confinement. "Don' need t'fight back... You jus' lose anyway."
As if it'd not just woken up from a nap, then, it huffs and mumbles out, "Can do stuff later..." The pangolin scales of its tail catch on every possible blade of grass as it strives to curl up into a tired, impenetrable ball of hide and hair.
@Yvan
"Unfair" is hardly a familiar word to Ryoto. Not when it's perfectly content and in its lane being as rotund as it is; it could've fallen asleep the second its tail was situated between its horns and nearly completing a full loop around its body.
What is unfair, though, is the utter inability to avoid squirming and loosening up when Yvan's hands worm their way beneath its armpits. A breathy, startled laugh escapes it, biceps pinching in tighter to its flanks just to keep the feeling of his palms skimming and inducing a tingly feeling across its whole body from happening again. A leg kicks out briefly, a vulnerability in the shell— and is tucked right back in.
"Don' even have anything to shave me wiiiith," Ryoto laments, too-loud and all dramatics.
@Yvan
How is a ryoto meant to sleep in these conditions? Forced to squeal in ticklish surprise and unravel in a show of miraculous weakness? Forced into delighted wakefulness despite its best efforts to enable that inner urge to dead-sleep and hibernate even more after a big meal?
... not as terrible as it'd imagined.
"That'd be s-so mean... !" It can't help but to laugh as claws itch in; to twist around like an unscruffed cat and go tumbling away into a sort of... panda roll into another ball. In this one, it lands on its back, tail more visible than any sort of fuzz. That'll show Yvan—
@Yvan