[It's a shame, really, because the girl makes mention of my powers and that's something he'd actually like to probe in a lot more detail than he ultimately has the opportunity to, because all of a sudden she's latching onto his arm and everything else abruptly goes by the wayside, as he has to steel himself with the sharp reminder that throwing a stranger into a wall on reflex for touching him unexpectedly is pretty much the exact opposite of performing in a cute fashion.

Still, once the initial startle reaction has passed — and he realizes, sourly, that there's no possible way Navia could've overlooked just how hard he'd tensed up when she'd cuddled up to him — resigning himself to figuring this out becomes a necessity. And while he's certainly not going to simper, it occurs to him that in narratives that involve a reluctant guy and a bubbly girl, what the audience is generally looking for most is...

...A melting of the figurative ice king. All right. Maybe he can get away with being minimalist if he chooses something that plays to that.]

I just don't see why I should have to share you.

[It's certainly not the first time he's been forced to posture and carry on for the sake of an audience, at least. It is the first of this nature, but he's finding his rhythm, at least.]

Or to offer my confession in a setting like this, when you deserve so much better.