[ in but a flashpoint of a heartbeat, aventurine is pinned to the bed. this, too, isn't a particularly unusual state of affairs, though the mattress is far softer and easier on his back than the various other surfaces aventurine has met over the course of his many years in the business. there had been a split moment's gamble, a ticker in the back of aventurine's mind as he observed the smooth transition of rest to aggression, the flex of the man's arms between the act and the motion - but death hadn't seemed imminent, nor grievous bodily injury, and so aventurine had let slip his grip on the reins to the imaginary element building along the tip of his tongue and let himself fall.

the strawberry bisects between fangs the consistency of small daggers. aventurine lets out a low, admiring whistle despite himself. his palms raise. he presses the backs of his hand to the bed proper in the universal gesture for 'i'm harmless, please', a gesture entirely contrasting with the little quirk of a smile tucked away in the corners of his lips. ]

You make those two things sound criminal. You could do worse than me, though I will admit you could also do better. [ aventurine smiles, sunny-side up. ] Ah, please don't hit me too hard. Our captors think we've been married. I don't want to do anything that would make them think otherwise until we know what they intend for us. You agree, right?