[ From the far side of the elevator, one of the figures in the paintings whispers to another about how they just love a juicy slow burn, but Aerith can't bring herself to look away from Tseng to rebuff that remark. By her measure, that's not at all what this is so much as a contest of wills, one that she feels very comfortable about winning right up until his hand touches her face and something in her brain almost short-circuits, leaving her fixated on the insidious thought that his skin is much softer than she thought it would be.
Not that she's thought about it.
Unwilling to give up even a speck of space, Aerith stays as close as she is, her hand moving to touch Tseng's, the pads of her fingers skimming the soft skin at the inside of his wrist lightly before she gently guides his hand, steering him away from the slight grasp he keeps into something more affectionate. ]
You're going to blush, aren't you Tseng? [ One of them is, by the end of this, and while the odds are working against her as diligently as the trace hints of the smile she can see on his face, she's not going down without trying to turn the tables on him first. ] You should be careful.
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Not that she's thought about it.
Unwilling to give up even a speck of space, Aerith stays as close as she is, her hand moving to touch Tseng's, the pads of her fingers skimming the soft skin at the inside of his wrist lightly before she gently guides his hand, steering him away from the slight grasp he keeps into something more affectionate. ]
You're going to blush, aren't you Tseng? [ One of them is, by the end of this, and while the odds are working against her as diligently as the trace hints of the smile she can see on his face, she's not going down without trying to turn the tables on him first. ] You should be careful.