[ no, there's no need to talk about this. he'd been wrong to bring it up. so he lets the topic drop — scarif, the communion, all of it — in favor of keeping close to her. of allowing a small uptick to his lips, as she lifts a hand to his face. ]
Are you offering? [ just as soft. his eyes drop from her face to her sprained hand, and then back. ] One-handed?
[this is better. why bring up, and linger in, something that's only that's only going to hurt, when, here, they've found an easier way? his closeness is easy, and so is his touch. what she knows as his smile is warm, loosening the tightness in her chest and steadying her breath.
she can linger in that.
there's a shrug, as light as she's resolved to be in this moment, alongside:]
If you're brave enough.
[a hint of a smile, too, begins to pull on her own mouth.]
[she can linger here now; they can linger here. that's what she wants, more than anything (and she can think of that as a want), because maybe, just maybe, what they have in here, tucked far away from what lurks outside these walls, can be protected if they stay, if they hold onto it tightly enough. there's a chance.
kenos has chances — and maybe, just maybe, they can feel like possibility.
or, at the very least, chances can feel like his lips against hers, gentle and warm. they can feel, too, like the second kiss she leans in and claims, like just... being.
her smile is bright.]
Get the scissors, and we'll see.
[nothing will come in here to threaten those chances.
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Are you offering? [ just as soft. his eyes drop from her face to her sprained hand, and then back. ] One-handed?
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she can linger in that.
there's a shrug, as light as she's resolved to be in this moment, alongside:]
If you're brave enough.
[a hint of a smile, too, begins to pull on her own mouth.]
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so by way of answer, he lifts a hand to cup her cheek. he leans back down to kiss her on the lips, soft and chaste. and then he says against them, ]
Let's find out how brave I am.
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kenos has chances — and maybe, just maybe, they can feel like possibility.
or, at the very least, chances can feel like his lips against hers, gentle and warm. they can feel, too, like the second kiss she leans in and claims, like just... being.
her smile is bright.]
Get the scissors, and we'll see.
[nothing will come in here to threaten those chances.
she'll make sure of that.]