I'm not giving up, kicking off the rust
The clap of her hand across his mouth immediately returns the room to a hush, his disbelieving trumpet reduced to a strain of air and puffed up cheeks behind her fingers that's giving hostage situation. He doesn't fight the muzzling though, instead it gives him awareness of his volume, expression knowing. He inhales with considerable effort around her hand, the force suctioning her palm further to his lips until air streams in through his nose instead. It's all an attempt to calm again, although as she lets her hand fall away, he can't help but chase the retreat of it with a snuffling snap of teeth, utterly harmless with intent.
Where her leg slides against him, his body instinctly curves in, melting into a dip against her for a moment. The effect of her body ghosting just beneath his, warm and familiar, continues the movement down his torso, and he leans in with intent now to deliver a boyish kiss to her cheek, shoving it into place before he keels over onto the open side of the bed with the dramatic flare of an onstage death. It bounces him against the mattress faintly, flopping onto his back as her assumptions slinking through the dark and the returning quiet with an unmistakable fondness and an utter lack of helpfulness for his new problem. Perhaps he can ask when he visits Asta about her birthday gift.
He hums in audible thought, tilting his gaze up to the ceiling for a moment, absently reaching to draw her back into the gap he placed between them with his manuevering. "What sort of proposal do you want?" he wonders, voice kept low, as if this is a secret too.
Where her leg slides against him, his body instinctly curves in, melting into a dip against her for a moment. The effect of her body ghosting just beneath his, warm and familiar, continues the movement down his torso, and he leans in with intent now to deliver a boyish kiss to her cheek, shoving it into place before he keels over onto the open side of the bed with the dramatic flare of an onstage death. It bounces him against the mattress faintly, flopping onto his back as her assumptions slinking through the dark and the returning quiet with an unmistakable fondness and an utter lack of helpfulness for his new problem. Perhaps he can ask when he visits Asta about her birthday gift.
He hums in audible thought, tilting his gaze up to the ceiling for a moment, absently reaching to draw her back into the gap he placed between them with his manuevering. "What sort of proposal do you want?" he wonders, voice kept low, as if this is a secret too.
Kaisel
I keep acting tough but maybe I'm not good enough
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
