[ Oh come on. A part of him might have been desperately hoping for her to blush and act flustered and look away shyly, because then he could have nobly volunteered to pass on his turn to avoid making her uncomfortable? But no, she just has to meet his gaze bravely, and, like, he can't be the one to back off like some sort of coward, so.

So. Clearly, he has no choice. ]

... y-yeah? [ His voice cracked a bit. Fuuta hurries to clear his throat, trying to pretend something was just caught for a moment. ] Yeah, just. Stay there.

[ Is his face red? His face feels red. His movements are stiff, too, when Fuuta gets to his feet and slouches forth, awkwardly bracing his hands against the back of Hamel's chair over his shoulders before shuffling his feet forward to ... straddle her legs. Not yet putting his weight down, and instead hovering for a little longer as he tries not to think about how mortifying a position this is.

His voice comes a little squeaky with nerves when he grits, ] -- you're sure you're okay with this? I ain't gonna do anything you're uncomfortable with, you know.