Don't you think a girl like me should be touched?
She watches as he hangs his coat, tucking a meddlesome flyaway hair behind her ear and unwittingly leaving a streak of ash across her cheek in the process. As he moves closer she tilts her head to keep his gaze, freshly reminded of the differences in their statures when he’s so close. At least she’s used to it with Deimos in her life.
Pleasant surprise flickers over her face before she can conceal it, a warm smile following in its wake. “I’m surprised you remember.” Whether her or her words isn’t clarified, but privately she means both. Hotaru isn’t unaware of her looks, weaponizes them intentionally, but she’s not accustomed to being remembered as anything more than a pretty face. Much less for her words themselves to be recalled. It’s nice, if a vast difference from Torchline as a whole. Or perhaps it’s a more individual difference?
Before she can muse over it too long, Noah is demonstrating a stretch, and her gaze takes on a more professional keenness as she watches his body move and bend. Already pinpointing muscles and ligaments beneath his shirt to make mental note of. “I’m cycling new ash into the mud, but even without that I think I can make a difference.” Already her face is taking on a contemplative cast, teeth nibbling at her lip as she considers him. Coming to some sort of decision, she smiles and walks backwards, as certain of her surroundings as can be as she waves him forward. “I have changing stalls if you need, but I’ll need you to remove your shirt and lay on the table. There’s a cubby beneath it to put your shirt and towels to go under your chest. Do you have a scent preference for the massage oil and incense?” Spinning gracefully on her heel she moved to her cabinet, keeping an ear for his response as well as the shuffle of clothes to ensure he’s doing as asked.
Pleasant surprise flickers over her face before she can conceal it, a warm smile following in its wake. “I’m surprised you remember.” Whether her or her words isn’t clarified, but privately she means both. Hotaru isn’t unaware of her looks, weaponizes them intentionally, but she’s not accustomed to being remembered as anything more than a pretty face. Much less for her words themselves to be recalled. It’s nice, if a vast difference from Torchline as a whole. Or perhaps it’s a more individual difference?
Before she can muse over it too long, Noah is demonstrating a stretch, and her gaze takes on a more professional keenness as she watches his body move and bend. Already pinpointing muscles and ligaments beneath his shirt to make mental note of. “I’m cycling new ash into the mud, but even without that I think I can make a difference.” Already her face is taking on a contemplative cast, teeth nibbling at her lip as she considers him. Coming to some sort of decision, she smiles and walks backwards, as certain of her surroundings as can be as she waves him forward. “I have changing stalls if you need, but I’ll need you to remove your shirt and lay on the table. There’s a cubby beneath it to put your shirt and towels to go under your chest. Do you have a scent preference for the massage oil and incense?” Spinning gracefully on her heel she moved to her cabinet, keeping an ear for his response as well as the shuffle of clothes to ensure he’s doing as asked.
HOTARU
