[se] allowed to reach for it

Evie

Evie's shameless grin is entirely unrepentant, aware of the accuracy of that statement. "You're a good cook, can you blame me?" As if the quality of the food on hand has ever impacted Evie's desire to consume it. The point of it being a surprise has far more weight - she is admittedly a sucker for surprises, no matter how minor, and her eagerness colors the happy hum in her throat as she leans into the kiss he lays on her crown. He strides away a breath later, and Evie wrinkles her nose habitually even as she jogs after him, needing to account for his much longer stride.

Like parents who are too tired to chase an unruly child, they follow in Belial's hooting, gallumphing wake. Evie doesn't mind the journey; too busy admiring the mountainous range in the distance, or turning her face to the wind to chase loose strands of hair from her cheeks. Their destination becomes apparent in time as Deimos stops, and the Evergreen obediently surveys the site - a mostly inconsequential thing, given she trusts the Sword's evaluations utterly - and smiles beatifically. "Perfect," she effuses in contrast to his laughably mild word choice. Eyeing the packs that she had not looked through before, she divests her own which has little more than standard supplies and snacks. "Anything I can help unpack?"

Cover your crystal eyes
And let your colors bleed and blend with mine