Honey wherever you go, I know
Anticipation waits for a shove or a scream, maybe even a plume of frost guided from Spice in joint retribution—anything that'd argue against his absurd declaration. He can feel it hovering there, poised just near enough that that it could descend at any moment. He's rigid with preparation, grin cocked as all his chewing halts. Instead, she consents, and too gently at that. She is somehow more unnerving for her layered sweetness, the kind of sugar that you'll get sick on.
He glances slowly back to her, as cautious as stumbling across a bear that he doesn't want to trigger into a mauling. His attention lingers where her fingers graze him for a moment, trying to work through the trap he knows is being built, but can't get a sense for the mechanism. His focus shifts back onto her, a lens adjusting over the haze of his shoulder, to watch as she waltzes down the ship with all the languid strut of a cat that will beg for belly rubs with it's claws out. She moves every curve subtly, but with the intent for each outline to be known, and gods he must have been held back in school with the way he means to learn every shape again. He cranes his neck to provide more space to witness her retreat without moving, a faint exhale parting from him as her skin flashes out of sight.
A chip crunches loudly.
Moving swiftly he flings open every cabinet until he finds a plate, using the offending spatula from before to scoop the nachos out neatly onto it. He pulls his shirt off one handed as he trots after her, plate of nachos held aloft in his other, swapping so he can shake the clothing off. It swings carelessly into the hallway corner as he nudges open the door, striding in like room service, though his gaze is anything but polite and professional. "Shower nachos are all the rage these days, you know. Like poolside, but rebranded for the comfort of your own home."
He glances slowly back to her, as cautious as stumbling across a bear that he doesn't want to trigger into a mauling. His attention lingers where her fingers graze him for a moment, trying to work through the trap he knows is being built, but can't get a sense for the mechanism. His focus shifts back onto her, a lens adjusting over the haze of his shoulder, to watch as she waltzes down the ship with all the languid strut of a cat that will beg for belly rubs with it's claws out. She moves every curve subtly, but with the intent for each outline to be known, and gods he must have been held back in school with the way he means to learn every shape again. He cranes his neck to provide more space to witness her retreat without moving, a faint exhale parting from him as her skin flashes out of sight.
A chip crunches loudly.
Moving swiftly he flings open every cabinet until he finds a plate, using the offending spatula from before to scoop the nachos out neatly onto it. He pulls his shirt off one handed as he trots after her, plate of nachos held aloft in his other, swapping so he can shake the clothing off. It swings carelessly into the hallway corner as he nudges open the door, striding in like room service, though his gaze is anything but polite and professional. "Shower nachos are all the rage these days, you know. Like poolside, but rebranded for the comfort of your own home."
Kaisel
I'd give up half of forever, just to be with you
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
