Raju nods, smiling. "Cheek—" his fingers curl over one, more pitted than he'd been expecting and there's no way to say so out loud, none that would carry the warmth and pleasure that he feels seeing the life in Francis' skin out from the inside of him to Francis' ears, "lip—" he brushes fingertips over it again, the bow of it smooth and shapely amid the square solidity of his face, "chin—" his hand moves down over the soft jawline that the beard had, a little, shown and the small, prominent curve of chin that it hadn't, pausing his finger over the cleft there.

Then Raju breathes out an amused noise at himself. "Everything surprises me," he says, delighted, and curls his fingers over Francis' chin, his fingernails happily too short to do anything but play at marking the skin there.

"Look at that, would you." He notes it as his hand turns, curled fingers realising how that prominent chin makes a fine place to grasp, if someone should decide he wants to take hold of Francis' jaw and turn Francis' head for him. Raju demonstrates for himself, pushing just a little, trying to firmly tip Francis' chin up toward him.

"Perfect," he murmurs, smiling at his hand and then, self-satisfied, into Francis' eyes. "Surprises everywhere."