[ There's no defense or explanation Aerith could give for any of this, not for lingering in his lap instead of immediately scrambling away, nor for how her fingertips almost seem to be left buzzing in all the places they've touched his skin. He holds her attention in a way he has no business being able to do, but all the reasons why that is grow further away as the warmth of the room rises, sharpening her senses, making it so when his lips part and his teeth catch her finger it's shocking but - not in the way she expects it to be.
Nothing about this is what she expected it to be. Champagne can smooth the sharper edges of that thorny truth, but Aerith can't deny that she feels better than she ever thought she could, or would, locked in a surreal game of tit-for-tat with Rufus Shinra. While on his lap. And touching his face. ]
You don't get to keep that, you know.
[ The effort Aerith makes to try and sound reproachful borders on valiant, but there's too much softness in the way she speaks for it to land, or even present itself at all as the three fingers she still has free drum gently on his jawline with feigned impatience before she slips free of his hold, all the snide remarks she could have made about not putting things from the slums in his mouth, or not damaging the lab specimens thought of and forgotten, never at risk of being said.
His eyes follow her lips, and she watches him while he does it, wanting him to look but unable to place why - not that having a motive feels as significant as how warm and solid he feels against her.
Even when she's sober, Aerith is the sort who leans into a snap decision, often without planning it through - sometimes to good results. Were she able to spare a thought for the situation, there wouldn't be that many good results that could come from this - keeping close to him, talking instead of seething with righteous rage - from letting him get so close.
Aerith's hands settle on his cheeks as her eyes narrow, giving his face another once over before she shifts closer and tips her chin up, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before righting herself again, more curious about his reaction than she ought to be. ]
i can't tell if this is a thread or a knife fight anymore...
Nothing about this is what she expected it to be. Champagne can smooth the sharper edges of that thorny truth, but Aerith can't deny that she feels better than she ever thought she could, or would, locked in a surreal game of tit-for-tat with Rufus Shinra. While on his lap. And touching his face. ]
You don't get to keep that, you know.
[ The effort Aerith makes to try and sound reproachful borders on valiant, but there's too much softness in the way she speaks for it to land, or even present itself at all as the three fingers she still has free drum gently on his jawline with feigned impatience before she slips free of his hold, all the snide remarks she could have made about not putting things from the slums in his mouth, or not damaging the lab specimens thought of and forgotten, never at risk of being said.
His eyes follow her lips, and she watches him while he does it, wanting him to look but unable to place why - not that having a motive feels as significant as how warm and solid he feels against her.
Even when she's sober, Aerith is the sort who leans into a snap decision, often without planning it through - sometimes to good results. Were she able to spare a thought for the situation, there wouldn't be that many good results that could come from this - keeping close to him, talking instead of seething with righteous rage - from letting him get so close.
Aerith's hands settle on his cheeks as her eyes narrow, giving his face another once over before she shifts closer and tips her chin up, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before righting herself again, more curious about his reaction than she ought to be. ]