[Of course she'd complain. They'd be back at it again like last time, perhaps. Her banging on his door. Him having to rub at his ear from her detailing about how he's not a gentleman. He almost feels like he's looking forward to that.]
[The pressure against his chest makes him still. There's a reckless urge to bring up a hand to place against the back of her head, keeping her against him, but he resists it mightily - there's only a twitch upwards that betrays it.]
[He shouldn't. He can't.]
[He misses that touch to his face that brought him such happiness and such despair.]
Dipping? Like what...chips? Or...dipping with dances...?
no subject
[The pressure against his chest makes him still. There's a reckless urge to bring up a hand to place against the back of her head, keeping her against him, but he resists it mightily - there's only a twitch upwards that betrays it.]
[He shouldn't. He can't.]
[He misses that touch to his face that brought him such happiness and such despair.]
Dipping? Like what...chips? Or...dipping with dances...?