Kaisel
Heaven help me, the devil wears lace and she can't be tamed
The pose she strikes is clearly a dramatic show of thought, but he thinks it's a consideration of the name, a back and forth between them that's gone on for days now. It's picked up and set back down as easily as pushing pause on a show for frequent snack breaks and silly dashes through the house. So when password finishes up her disapproving sound, surprise instantly steals his expression, one brow reaching for his hairline to steady its understanding. The full strike of her mischief lands then, pulling sharp the corners of her features in just the right way, akin to a flashlight throwing spooky shadows from below for a ghost telling session. She comes alive in a very different way when she's plotting, and damn if it doesn't threaten to arrest his breath every time.
"Oh!" he says with a swift palm slapping his forehead as he retreats off whatever edge of her comfort he's trespassed on. "I should have expected the very respectable Pillow Fort to require more than showing up," he admits with an exaggerated ruffle of his hand through his hair, purposefully letting the slope of his bicep catch the backlight of fire. Treating it like an exclusive club, which by all rights it is when the other options here are fire and brimstone, he respects its borders completely.
Three, he mouths back to her with the faintest tilt of his head, gaze skipping away as if too nonchalant and cool to be overly worried about this barred entry. The hand on his head slips to his hip in near perfect mirroring of her as he audibly thinks. The hmms seem to guide the movement of his hand, each one sending it off his hip and reaching lazily beneath the hem of his shirt, pulling it up higher and higher over his abdomen as fingers splay idly against his skin in thought. "It couldn't be, Spice the best girl, could it?" he wonders casually, a look sliding her way slowly. There's more than one way to get around a password and sneak in somewhere, after all, and flirting with the bouncer is certainly one.
"Oh!" he says with a swift palm slapping his forehead as he retreats off whatever edge of her comfort he's trespassed on. "I should have expected the very respectable Pillow Fort to require more than showing up," he admits with an exaggerated ruffle of his hand through his hair, purposefully letting the slope of his bicep catch the backlight of fire. Treating it like an exclusive club, which by all rights it is when the other options here are fire and brimstone, he respects its borders completely.
Three, he mouths back to her with the faintest tilt of his head, gaze skipping away as if too nonchalant and cool to be overly worried about this barred entry. The hand on his head slips to his hip in near perfect mirroring of her as he audibly thinks. The hmms seem to guide the movement of his hand, each one sending it off his hip and reaching lazily beneath the hem of his shirt, pulling it up higher and higher over his abdomen as fingers splay idly against his skin in thought. "It couldn't be, Spice the best girl, could it?" he wonders casually, a look sliding her way slowly. There's more than one way to get around a password and sneak in somewhere, after all, and flirting with the bouncer is certainly one.
Let me see the good girl you wanted to be. All of my praise, only from me.
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
