[Commitment, loyalty, dedication--different words for the same sentiment, perhaps, the differences amongst them too subtle for Childe to bother parsing. Either way, it's a trait he'd definitely recognized during their time together. He'd respected her for it--had considered killing her over it, actually, since he'd been utterly confident that she would be willing to kill him for her wish, if needed.]
To hell with the words of the bitter dead, then. [He waves his free hand. Fuck that other guy! Who cares what he had to say.] I don't believe in weighing death and morality like that anyway.
[Probably not a shocking sentiment, coming from him.]
[As he slows to a stop in front of a door, her words draw something of a smile--this one much smaller than his usual cheerful grins. It's definitely a little awkward, if only because he still doesn't quite know what to do with positive sincerity like this. He hasn't heard it in years.
Still, Iris did wear him down quite a bit at the station--and so it's with only a brief hesitation that he leans down to kiss her cheek, as if in gratitude for the sentiment.
He doesn't doubt that she's right--but he also doesn't doubt that it would be better if she wasn't. But he's too selfish, at the end of the day. The remnants of Ajax within him remain too devoted to make that clean break.]
Well, that's the main reason I want to get stronger, after all. [It's a far cry from the talk of world conquest in the kitchen, but he doesn't sound any less sincere now than he did then.] But enough about that--there should be some clothes in here.
[Opening the door! It just looks like a normal guest room would--a window with heavy curtains, dim lights, a bookshelf stocked with a variety of texts, a writing desk and some stationery. A stone device sits near the bed, though whatever its purpose, it seems deactivated at the moment.]
[ Primrose is far too seasoned a professional to do the demure, maidenly thing of blushing or delicately pressing her free hand to the kissed spot, as though to capture the warmth and memory of bold affection.
Still, it lingers. After years of far more unsavory kisses exchanged in the cover of darkness and shadowy corners, techniques developed all to aid her on her path... this one leaves a different impression.
She'd rather not dwell on it, so she doesn't, only smiles vaguely in acknowledgment though she does hesitate longer than usual to do so. But then the door is open and she steps in, taking in the appearance. It's about what she expected, though she blinks at the device. ]
[Ah--he moves over to it, touching the top. With a light scraping noise, the top of the device rises, revealing an orange orb that paints the room in a soft glow. From where she's standing, she'll probably feel the warmth it emits.]
Just some extra warmth, if you need it. If it's too warm, you can turn it off. [Who knows how she'll be feeling if she genuinely does plan on sleeping naked?! He'd assumed she was teasing him but what does he know,]
... That's a rather convenient apparatus. [ Honestly, she likes it already, nodding approvingly.
And it's true that Childe probably shouldn't assume, because as Primrose steps closer, her hands reach back to begin undoing the clasp holding her top together. As though this is absolutely fine to be doing with a Fatui Harbinger. ]
[He's about to make a comment--something about Snezhnayan technology holding its own against Fontaine--but then she's doing that, and--well. He's an idiot, but not that much of one.
A much cuter man would probably stammer, or blush, or find some excuse to leave her to her privacy. No matter what they'd shared at the station, it would be the polite thing to do. Childe, though, simply shuts his mouth and leans back against the closed door, watching her with dark eyes.
It's an expression she'd likely seen on his face at the station, too, whenever they'd fallen together. No matter how much effort he'd put into coasting beneath suspicion day to day, he'd never tried particularly hard to downplay the threat he presented--the hints of danger behind his smile, the glint of steel in his eyes. And perhaps that was arrogance, or perhaps it was simply this--that he'd known, in moments like these, there was no way to hide the sharp edges of his interest.]
[ Admittedly, she'd been curious-- could she tease him? He's been careful with her, rather hesitant in certain regards, and she thinks it only makes sense. Their interactions at the station had been for a purpose. For a victory. Without that spurring them on, she'd wondered if they'd stay amicable at best.
And yet here he is, observing her. Answering an unspoken challenge, perhaps.
There's very clear danger in the darkness of his eyes, and her lips curve into a faint smile as her top falls into her hands. She places it carefully on the bed, slipping out of her lower garments next with the graceful ease of a professional dancer.
All the while her gaze doesn't move from his face. ]
Just trying to be a good host and attend to my guest. [It's light, and his smile is quick, distracted--his attention is very clearly focused wholly on her.
His eyes don't stray from where they're locked onto hers, but it's not out of any sense of courtesy. Instead, his gaze is searching, as if he's looking for the answer to a question he hasn't asked.
He's made a lot of assumptions over the course of his life. He tries his best not to, but it's inevitable. With a life like his, anticipation and forethought are a necessity for survival, and for all the times it serves him well, there are times, too, when he lets his thoughts get the better of him. He'd assumed Gu Yun would be too soft to kill unprompted. He'd assumed Medb would understand why he'd lied to her.
(He'd assumed, truthfully, that Primrose would ignore his initial messages in favor of continuing on with her own life, unhindered by a troublesome person like him. He wouldn't have blamed her. He just couldn't resist knowing for himself, one way or the other, whether or not the support she'd shown him was a product of circumstance.)
Perhaps it's funny, then, that it's here, now, that instinct kicks in. Not a life-or-death situation, just a warm, quiet room, and a voice in the back of his head warning him not to commit the folly of assumption.
He doesn't move from where here he stands, but he does cant his head to the side, just a little.]
Your guests must be numerous indeed, if you always give them such... diligent dedication.
[ It's said a tad dryly, her tone rather unaffected, even though it's difficult to sift through her thoughts when Childe is studying her intently-- and not in the way she's used to. His gaze doesn't wander, but still, she sees the intent for what it is. He's searching for something. A sign. An answer.
And when he asks her, Primrose almost laughs, incredulous. He gives her such a frivolous answer and she's aware she could respond in much the same vein. She could say she'd like to witness his hospitality for herself. She could say she'd like to go to bed, thanks, she's had a long day.
She could tell him that she'd wanted him to cut himself free completely, to live his life as the others had gone on to live theirs. She had been relieved when no one had reached out. She had accomplished her goal, hadn't formed bonds that would truly hurt when she disappeared-- or so she'd hoped. Gu Yun and Molly would have their lives together, Yuri would find a happiness he'd deprived himself of before, Harrow and Vira...
It's fine like this. She'd had no room for anything but a revenge she'd clawed her way towards for ten years. Peace could come after.
But peace hadn't come after. She wasn't the same Primrose Azelhart with a loving family and a gentle heart. She couldn't be a soft, sweet woman who needed only the gentle touch of a caring man to flourish and find happiness again. She couldn't go back to that and it was galling that it seemed to be what was expected of her.
She takes a breath.
Faith shall be your shield. ]
I want to know why I didn't just ignore your messages. I want to know why I responded.
[Childe is by no means a soft man--but something shifts in his expression at her answer, more honest than expected.
Not so long ago, he wouldn't have been able to relate to her struggle at all. But given the events of Liyue, and then the station... it's a sentiment that lands uncomfortably in his own chest.
Finally, he pushes off the door, crossing the room to stand in front of her. With the height difference between them, it would be all but impossible to stop his gaze from dropping even if he'd wanted to try. And he doesn't--what kind of fool would he be, after all, not to appreciate the sight of her?--but he doesn't want to allow himself to get too distracted, either. So it's one sweeping glance over the length of her body before he lifts a hand, reaching out for her.
There's a moment of uncharacteristic hesitation, then, but it's gone so quickly that she might not even notice, and he rests his hand on her elbow, feather-light.]
Then let me help you find out. [His voice is softer, now, with so little space between them. He won't ask her to forge a new path with him, not like this, not when she knows nothing of his world beyond tonight's carefully tailored experience. But this... this is different. This is something he can give her without the heavy weight of blind commitment. And if she decides she wants nothing more than an early trip back to her home tomorrow, he can bid her farewell with a smile.
(But if he can't stop himself from trying to influence her decision-making in the future, well. She already knows the sort of person he is. It won't come as a surprise.)]
[ She's braced, as she always is, has been-- because Primrose, no matter her state, has dropped her guard very little over the past few years. Fully relaxing feels like a distant memory and she's aware that whenever she does sleep, her dagger will be under her pillow.
It's his split second of hesitation that keeps her from tensing, surprising enough that when he reaches for her, her breath catches slightly. It's the only sign of vulnerability she'll allow, especially after that admission, before she lifts her free hand to cup behind his neck. One eyebrow lifts. ]
An offer made to a guest?
[ Where this leads, she can't even begin to fathom. What path she takes remains shrouded in darkness. But she doesn't have to step on any path tonight, she thinks. And perhaps that's the thrill of it. He'll be a challenge from now on, but that's never really changed.
[Perhaps such a question warrants a wholly serious response--but Childe is Childe, and he can't resist the urge to wink at her, his other hand finding its way to her hip. With his gloves on, he can't feel her skin directly, but perhaps that's for the best for now.]
Only very special ones from faraway worlds.
[Of which there are almost none, so. It's still an honest answer.
And--well, it isn't as though he actually needs to ask, he thinks. She's been quite clear from the moment she arrived that she's comfortable enough around him. He hadn't anticipated that, let alone anything like this, but as he finds his footing again, it's easy enough to let memory guide him into dipping his head down. On the other hand, it's purely the desire to tease her that has him stopping a breath away--though that, at least, is clear from the low cadence of his voice and the spark of mischief in his eyes.
They can set aside all of the vulnerability and introspection, for now. That, too, is its own sort of gift.]
Can I kiss you, Primrose?
[He knows the answer. She gave it to him months ago. He just wants her to say it again, now that they're back in control of their own lives.]
[ She's tempted to ask how many people from faraway worlds he invites, but at the same time, she's neither curious nor possessive enough to bother wasting time on the question. There's still an honesty in the answer, playful as it sounds.
It doesn't mean she gives him the pleasure of an impatient gesture or a response when he stops, close enough for their breaths to mingle. She merely lifts her eyes, a brighter spark in her irises at the nostalgia of his question. He knows the answer. Of course he does.
[Childe is a lot of things--but noncommittal is not one of them. She gives her answer, and he doesn't hesitate to dip forward just a little further, closing what's left of the gap between them.
He's kissed her like this before, warm lips and languid confidence. But there's something in his movements, as his hand leaves her elbow to skim up her bare arm and over her collarbone, that's much more relaxed than he ever was at the station. Like her, his guard is never truly down--but wholly intact in his home world, with no competitive stakes looming in the back of his mind, there's nothing behind his actions but genuine desire.
He has little to hide from her here, now. Not nothing, never nothing--but she has yet to shy away from anything he's shown her of himself thus far. Is it any wonder, then, that this is as close to safe as he's ever going to feel?]
[ It's strange, to have that alert nature, to be absolutely braced for anything-- but also to acknowledge that they have no reason to be going any further than this, beyond a sincere desire to want to. This won't give them points. This won't accomplish a higher purpose and there's no need for manipulation here.
Indeed... it's strange. They'd never truly relaxed around each other at the station and Primrose isn't foolish enough to assume that this means Childe is entirely open. She most certainly isn't, but even so, she can feel a clear difference in the way his hand travels up her arm and skates across her collarbone. In a sense, it makes him far more dangerous.
But she's never once thought that was worse than insincerity and false smiles. She welcomes that edge now, pressing into the kiss with ease and an equally tranquil confidence, rising up a bit to wrap her arms around his neck and press her breasts to his chest.
Her lips drift a bit, to the corner of his mouth, to speak-- ]
[He is, perhaps, more careful than might be expected as he lets his hand drift higher, his fingers trailing around to rest at the base of her neck. If he wanted to, he could easily tangle his fingers in her hair like this, coax her into something harsh and urgent, away from this slow sweetness they've fallen into. But he doesn't. Whether it's because this is what he wants, or what he thinks she needs, is anyone's guess.
He slides his other hand up the curve of her waist, settling it high on her ribs and stroking his thumb just under the swell of her breast. Her words make him smile, and he turns his head slightly, as if to chase her lips. He lingers, though, speaking quietly instead of diving immediately into another kiss. Admits--] I'm a little surprised.
[And maybe that says a lot more about him than it does about her, but, well. He's self-aware.]
[ One thumb idly rubs the back of his neck, body subtly humming with the return of a semi-familiar touch. Until the station, she hadn't made a habit of taking the same partner more than once, her "Master" aside. The heat rising within her is oddly comfortable, and she arches an eyebrow as he speaks. ]
Did you think I would discard the memory of you entirely?
[It isn't often that he shows this kind of uncertainty, but he has no reason not to be honest. He leaves his hands where they are for the moment, but he lets his lips trail across her cheek and down to the curve of her jaw, feather-light.]
I suppose I didn't think much about it. [She'll probably feel his smile, light and fleeting, pressed beneath her chin.] I tried not to have expectations one way or the other.
[People generally don't want anything to do with him after he shows the knife in his hand, after all. He would've understood, if the same held true for her.]
[ Baring her throat is a sign of not only vulnerability, but submission-- so Primrose doesn't, merely hums nigh-silently and knows he'll feel it, this quiet response to his smiling admission. Now perhaps isn't the time to be trying to hold a conversation, but nothing about this situation has been normal.
Nothing about Childe has ever struck her as normal, even before she'd known just how diamond-sharp his edges were. ]
Wise, to not have expectations. We place so much weight in them.
In the end, you didn't lose sight of what the game was truly about. Perhaps for you, there was very little to lose in the first place by choosing to act as you did.
I, too, did not intend to falter. [ And she had left without looking back. ]
But I do not forget those who leave an impression. For better or for worse.
[At first, it seems like that's all he intends to say. Like he's gotten distracted scraping his teeth delicately over her pulse point before he makes his way down to her shoulder, then her collarbone.
But then, he pulls back and away altogether--not far enough to break out of her hold, but his hands withdraw and he lifts his head to look at her again. Finally, he begins to ease his gloves off.]
There would've been little to lose if I were a wiser man. But even someone like me has a heart. [He winks at her.] For better or for worse.
[ A bit unfair of him to be so dressed when she is very clearly Not, and she's of a mind to point out that she isn't about to just let him make this a one-sided pursuit.
(She doesn't wish to be spoiled, doesn't know how to respond to such a thing, though she doubts he would.)
Still, she can still feel the phantom sensation of his teeth dancing over her pulse point, scraping at her collarbone, and she releases him-- if just to reach for one of his hands to take a glove off herself, if he so allows. ]
[LOOK... nothing is stopping her from undressing him too okay. He certainly won't stop her from doing anything she wants, and he proves it by surrendering his hand to her, easily.]
Who would ever say I lost when you're here with me now?
[And it's true, a genuine sentiment--but there's laughter in his voice as he says it, because that line is corny as hell and he knows they both know it.]
[ Primrose gives him a look, one eyebrow levelly raised as she brings his hand up-- and grips the fabric over one finger with her teeth to slowly drag that glove off. She just maintains long, unamused eye contact before she draws back and lets the glove fall into her free hand. ]
Truly, I do wonder how you've not successfully landed a particular kind of catch, with such saccharine lines.
No okay he's laughing properly now. It's a bright, cheerful sound, almost too big for what little space is left between them, though he tilts his head back as he does. She doesn't have to bare her throat, but he will--though it's anyone's guess whether it's because he trusts her not to harm him or because he'd enjoy it if she tried. Most likely, it's a combination of both.]
Terrible, isn't it? [He eases his pinky ring off as he speaks, then leans past her to set it on the bedside table. His newly bared hand finds its place at her hip again, his fingers cool against her skin; now that the ring is off, he'll leave the other glove to her, if she wants.] I heard something similar in a play, once. The young lady at the table in front of mine got up and left.
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[Commitment, loyalty, dedication--different words for the same sentiment, perhaps, the differences amongst them too subtle for Childe to bother parsing. Either way, it's a trait he'd definitely recognized during their time together. He'd respected her for it--had considered killing her over it, actually, since he'd been utterly confident that she would be willing to kill him for her wish, if needed.]
To hell with the words of the bitter dead, then. [He waves his free hand. Fuck that other guy! Who cares what he had to say.] I don't believe in weighing death and morality like that anyway.
[Probably not a shocking sentiment, coming from him.]
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[ Quietly, her gaze turning away to face forward. ]
But yes, I would have to agree with you. If your parents cannot fully understand who you are, that may be for the best.
But I also do think that you're still very much loved, Tartaglia. Even your more problematic aspects.
[ ... She is not good at comforting. This feels terribly awkward. ]
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Still, Iris did wear him down quite a bit at the station--and so it's with only a brief hesitation that he leans down to kiss her cheek, as if in gratitude for the sentiment.
He doesn't doubt that she's right--but he also doesn't doubt that it would be better if she wasn't. But he's too selfish, at the end of the day. The remnants of Ajax within him remain too devoted to make that clean break.]
Well, that's the main reason I want to get stronger, after all. [It's a far cry from the talk of world conquest in the kitchen, but he doesn't sound any less sincere now than he did then.] But enough about that--there should be some clothes in here.
[Opening the door! It just looks like a normal guest room would--a window with heavy curtains, dim lights, a bookshelf stocked with a variety of texts, a writing desk and some stationery. A stone device sits near the bed, though whatever its purpose, it seems deactivated at the moment.]
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Still, it lingers. After years of far more unsavory kisses exchanged in the cover of darkness and shadowy corners, techniques developed all to aid her on her path... this one leaves a different impression.
She'd rather not dwell on it, so she doesn't, only smiles vaguely in acknowledgment though she does hesitate longer than usual to do so. But then the door is open and she steps in, taking in the appearance. It's about what she expected, though she blinks at the device. ]
This is...?
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Just some extra warmth, if you need it. If it's too warm, you can turn it off. [Who knows how she'll be feeling if she genuinely does plan on sleeping naked?! He'd assumed she was teasing him but what does he know,]
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And it's true that Childe probably shouldn't assume, because as Primrose steps closer, her hands reach back to begin undoing the clasp holding her top together. As though this is absolutely fine to be doing with a Fatui Harbinger. ]
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A much cuter man would probably stammer, or blush, or find some excuse to leave her to her privacy. No matter what they'd shared at the station, it would be the polite thing to do. Childe, though, simply shuts his mouth and leans back against the closed door, watching her with dark eyes.
It's an expression she'd likely seen on his face at the station, too, whenever they'd fallen together. No matter how much effort he'd put into coasting beneath suspicion day to day, he'd never tried particularly hard to downplay the threat he presented--the hints of danger behind his smile, the glint of steel in his eyes. And perhaps that was arrogance, or perhaps it was simply this--that he'd known, in moments like these, there was no way to hide the sharp edges of his interest.]
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And yet here he is, observing her. Answering an unspoken challenge, perhaps.
There's very clear danger in the darkness of his eyes, and her lips curve into a faint smile as her top falls into her hands. She places it carefully on the bed, slipping out of her lower garments next with the graceful ease of a professional dancer.
All the while her gaze doesn't move from his face. ]
Was there something you wanted, Tartaglia?
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His eyes don't stray from where they're locked onto hers, but it's not out of any sense of courtesy. Instead, his gaze is searching, as if he's looking for the answer to a question he hasn't asked.
He's made a lot of assumptions over the course of his life. He tries his best not to, but it's inevitable. With a life like his, anticipation and forethought are a necessity for survival, and for all the times it serves him well, there are times, too, when he lets his thoughts get the better of him. He'd assumed Gu Yun would be too soft to kill unprompted. He'd assumed Medb would understand why he'd lied to her.
(He'd assumed, truthfully, that Primrose would ignore his initial messages in favor of continuing on with her own life, unhindered by a troublesome person like him. He wouldn't have blamed her. He just couldn't resist knowing for himself, one way or the other, whether or not the support she'd shown him was a product of circumstance.)
Perhaps it's funny, then, that it's here, now, that instinct kicks in. Not a life-or-death situation, just a warm, quiet room, and a voice in the back of his head warning him not to commit the folly of assumption.
He doesn't move from where here he stands, but he does cant his head to the side, just a little.]
...What is it you want, Primrose?
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[ It's said a tad dryly, her tone rather unaffected, even though it's difficult to sift through her thoughts when Childe is studying her intently-- and not in the way she's used to. His gaze doesn't wander, but still, she sees the intent for what it is. He's searching for something. A sign. An answer.
And when he asks her, Primrose almost laughs, incredulous. He gives her such a frivolous answer and she's aware she could respond in much the same vein. She could say she'd like to witness his hospitality for herself. She could say she'd like to go to bed, thanks, she's had a long day.
She could tell him that she'd wanted him to cut himself free completely, to live his life as the others had gone on to live theirs. She had been relieved when no one had reached out. She had accomplished her goal, hadn't formed bonds that would truly hurt when she disappeared-- or so she'd hoped. Gu Yun and Molly would have their lives together, Yuri would find a happiness he'd deprived himself of before, Harrow and Vira...
It's fine like this. She'd had no room for anything but a revenge she'd clawed her way towards for ten years. Peace could come after.
But peace hadn't come after. She wasn't the same Primrose Azelhart with a loving family and a gentle heart. She couldn't be a soft, sweet woman who needed only the gentle touch of a caring man to flourish and find happiness again. She couldn't go back to that and it was galling that it seemed to be what was expected of her.
She takes a breath.
Faith shall be your shield. ]
I want to know why I didn't just ignore your messages. I want to know why I responded.
I want to know what I want.
no subject
Not so long ago, he wouldn't have been able to relate to her struggle at all. But given the events of Liyue, and then the station... it's a sentiment that lands uncomfortably in his own chest.
Finally, he pushes off the door, crossing the room to stand in front of her. With the height difference between them, it would be all but impossible to stop his gaze from dropping even if he'd wanted to try. And he doesn't--what kind of fool would he be, after all, not to appreciate the sight of her?--but he doesn't want to allow himself to get too distracted, either. So it's one sweeping glance over the length of her body before he lifts a hand, reaching out for her.
There's a moment of uncharacteristic hesitation, then, but it's gone so quickly that she might not even notice, and he rests his hand on her elbow, feather-light.]
Then let me help you find out. [His voice is softer, now, with so little space between them. He won't ask her to forge a new path with him, not like this, not when she knows nothing of his world beyond tonight's carefully tailored experience. But this... this is different. This is something he can give her without the heavy weight of blind commitment. And if she decides she wants nothing more than an early trip back to her home tomorrow, he can bid her farewell with a smile.
(But if he can't stop himself from trying to influence her decision-making in the future, well. She already knows the sort of person he is. It won't come as a surprise.)]
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It's his split second of hesitation that keeps her from tensing, surprising enough that when he reaches for her, her breath catches slightly. It's the only sign of vulnerability she'll allow, especially after that admission, before she lifts her free hand to cup behind his neck. One eyebrow lifts. ]
An offer made to a guest?
[ Where this leads, she can't even begin to fathom. What path she takes remains shrouded in darkness. But she doesn't have to step on any path tonight, she thinks. And perhaps that's the thrill of it. He'll be a challenge from now on, but that's never really changed.
She can learn the rest for herself. ]
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Only very special ones from faraway worlds.
[Of which there are almost none, so. It's still an honest answer.
And--well, it isn't as though he actually needs to ask, he thinks. She's been quite clear from the moment she arrived that she's comfortable enough around him. He hadn't anticipated that, let alone anything like this, but as he finds his footing again, it's easy enough to let memory guide him into dipping his head down. On the other hand, it's purely the desire to tease her that has him stopping a breath away--though that, at least, is clear from the low cadence of his voice and the spark of mischief in his eyes.
They can set aside all of the vulnerability and introspection, for now. That, too, is its own sort of gift.]
Can I kiss you, Primrose?
[He knows the answer. She gave it to him months ago. He just wants her to say it again, now that they're back in control of their own lives.]
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It doesn't mean she gives him the pleasure of an impatient gesture or a response when he stops, close enough for their breaths to mingle. She merely lifts her eyes, a brighter spark in her irises at the nostalgia of his question. He knows the answer. Of course he does.
But the situation has changed, hasn't it? ]
You may.
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He's kissed her like this before, warm lips and languid confidence. But there's something in his movements, as his hand leaves her elbow to skim up her bare arm and over her collarbone, that's much more relaxed than he ever was at the station. Like her, his guard is never truly down--but wholly intact in his home world, with no competitive stakes looming in the back of his mind, there's nothing behind his actions but genuine desire.
He has little to hide from her here, now. Not nothing, never nothing--but she has yet to shy away from anything he's shown her of himself thus far. Is it any wonder, then, that this is as close to safe as he's ever going to feel?]
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Indeed... it's strange. They'd never truly relaxed around each other at the station and Primrose isn't foolish enough to assume that this means Childe is entirely open. She most certainly isn't, but even so, she can feel a clear difference in the way his hand travels up her arm and skates across her collarbone. In a sense, it makes him far more dangerous.
But she's never once thought that was worse than insincerity and false smiles. She welcomes that edge now, pressing into the kiss with ease and an equally tranquil confidence, rising up a bit to wrap her arms around his neck and press her breasts to his chest.
Her lips drift a bit, to the corner of his mouth, to speak-- ]
It seems I still remember your taste.
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He slides his other hand up the curve of her waist, settling it high on her ribs and stroking his thumb just under the swell of her breast. Her words make him smile, and he turns his head slightly, as if to chase her lips. He lingers, though, speaking quietly instead of diving immediately into another kiss. Admits--] I'm a little surprised.
[And maybe that says a lot more about him than it does about her, but, well. He's self-aware.]
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Did you think I would discard the memory of you entirely?
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[It isn't often that he shows this kind of uncertainty, but he has no reason not to be honest. He leaves his hands where they are for the moment, but he lets his lips trail across her cheek and down to the curve of her jaw, feather-light.]
I suppose I didn't think much about it. [She'll probably feel his smile, light and fleeting, pressed beneath her chin.] I tried not to have expectations one way or the other.
[People generally don't want anything to do with him after he shows the knife in his hand, after all. He would've understood, if the same held true for her.]
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Nothing about Childe has ever struck her as normal, even before she'd known just how diamond-sharp his edges were. ]
Wise, to not have expectations. We place so much weight in them.
In the end, you didn't lose sight of what the game was truly about. Perhaps for you, there was very little to lose in the first place by choosing to act as you did.
I, too, did not intend to falter. [ And she had left without looking back. ]
But I do not forget those who leave an impression. For better or for worse.
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[At first, it seems like that's all he intends to say. Like he's gotten distracted scraping his teeth delicately over her pulse point before he makes his way down to her shoulder, then her collarbone.
But then, he pulls back and away altogether--not far enough to break out of her hold, but his hands withdraw and he lifts his head to look at her again. Finally, he begins to ease his gloves off.]
There would've been little to lose if I were a wiser man. But even someone like me has a heart. [He winks at her.] For better or for worse.
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(She doesn't wish to be spoiled, doesn't know how to respond to such a thing, though she doubts he would.)
Still, she can still feel the phantom sensation of his teeth dancing over her pulse point, scraping at her collarbone, and she releases him-- if just to reach for one of his hands to take a glove off herself, if he so allows. ]
And did you lose more than you wanted, Tartaglia?
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Who would ever say I lost when you're here with me now?
[And it's true, a genuine sentiment--but there's laughter in his voice as he says it, because that line is corny as hell and he knows they both know it.]
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Truly, I do wonder how you've not successfully landed a particular kind of catch, with such saccharine lines.
[ CHEESY. ]
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No okay he's laughing properly now. It's a bright, cheerful sound, almost too big for what little space is left between them, though he tilts his head back as he does. She doesn't have to bare her throat, but he will--though it's anyone's guess whether it's because he trusts her not to harm him or because he'd enjoy it if she tried. Most likely, it's a combination of both.]
Terrible, isn't it? [He eases his pinky ring off as he speaks, then leans past her to set it on the bedside table. His newly bared hand finds its place at her hip again, his fingers cool against her skin; now that the ring is off, he'll leave the other glove to her, if she wants.] I heard something similar in a play, once. The young lady at the table in front of mine got up and left.
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crawls back here after mg
TAKES A WEEK
AT LEAST IT WASN'T TWO MONTHS
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