The smallest of wry smiles twitches at the corner of Serph's mouth when Jack says he wouldn't be very good at protecting him. It felt like it wasn't very long ago that Argilla was reminding him that he was irreplaceable, the constant wordless agreement of all who served under him that they would protect him with their lives. That duty had once been immutable fact, but only held value once it became a choice.

Serph blinks, caught off-guard by the request. Usually he's the one giving the hugs, not the person being offered one. All those times, they were usually spontaneous things rather than something where permission was sought. Though it doesn't show on his face, he feels strangely self-conscious all of a sudden, the top pair of his wings fluffing before they settle back down.

He's not sure why Jack wants to give him a hug, but... He stops leaning against his vehicle, unfolding his arms and holding them open wide. Sure, Jack can give him a hug.