He looks at Ink. They've been in the room for an hour or so, not even talking. It's cozy and warm, but Nightmare can't help but think this instance could work as... a place to deepen their relationship. Bonds growing closer and all that, he supposes. Sounds nice in retrospect.
He squints his eye. Ink isn't even looking at him. So of course, any interaction-start would fall to him. A new situation, but nothing world ending. No, he's been reading about this kind of thing for years, decades even. He knows what to do. Theoretically.
They're already in a relationship, so he could be more daring. It's expected of him. Ink stopped reacting particularly flustered to any subtle flirting a long time ago, so it's not weird for him to try and... Raise the level, per say. Of course. He needs a more direct phrase with romantic implications. Short and easy.
Ink seems to sense his long minute stare, so they look at him. They still don't talk, simply looking at him with those eyes that could very well pierce him.
This is his moment. This is. A moment. A moment. (His moment?)
They look to the side before looking back at him, smiling. "...Do I have something—"
"I bet any children we'd have would well survive into adulthood."
They look at each other. It's kind of painful up until Ink snorts, looking away as they press a hand to their mouth, a hint of paint trailing down their chin.
...Hm. Mission fulfilled, he presumes.
(As Ink starts wheezing, he starts somewhat doubting that claim)