There is nothing more that Thranduil wants than such a simple response. It speaks to him of a level of comfort that he knows Bard allows to few; he feels blessed to be one of those few. It was the same in return in truth there were few that Thranduil would cross that line with; few he would deem worthy of getting to know in any sense. Bard was, of the living, the only one. Even the ghosts of his past could not make Thranduil regret his actions.

It pleases the blond to note that his words have some effect on the other, that he considers the worth of his life rather than of his death. Thranduil understands the need to protect, the urge that consumes Bard, not only because they drift, but because he himself has it. Yet he also knows the weight that death brings, even in the name of protection. That is not something he wishes upon anyone.

Eyeing the brunet, Thranduil is pleased, for the moment, with that realization that he sees flicker in green eyes. He would like more, something more tangible than realization, but he knows that he will not get it now. Perhaps he never will, but he could hope.

Hope that flickers to life in his chest when Bard takes him up on his offer, the spontaneous thing that he thought so little of, but now was quite looking forward to. The blond nearly grins at the words, blue eyes amused at the thought. "It may upset you know know, that I am not the easiest to ply with liquor. " He turns, ponytail swinging with the movement. "I dare say that almost sounds like you wish to see me inebriated, Bard." He returns the teasing tone, flicker of a smile as he looks behind him.