[ it had hardly been much of a temptation, more of a ploy to get under his skin, remind him that she notices all the subtle gestures and surreptitious glances he'd always manage to sneak past the adults back home. she's an observer by nature, and not even gojou is immune to that, maybe because she knows just as well as he does that there are parts of him she may never quite know. but, then, that goes both ways, doesn't it? still, she likes the way he goes slack at her tugging, pliant for her as she reels him in, smiles up at him as if she's made some offer he simply can't refuse. he can, of course; they've refused tamer before this, even outside of this dreadful casino. maybe that's what she's always liked best about them—the eternal push and pull without ever quite crossing a line. she's an observer, a watcher, a chaser, like a cat that abandons its prey as soon as its trapped beneath its paws, never quite certain what comes after the hunt.
so her smile falters as soon as he leans in, unseen by his eyes but maybe noticed by the other six, something not quite horrified but certainly shocked. she hadn't expected him to rise to the bait, let alone fall for it so readily. her eyes flutter closed as if they're really about to kiss, and of all things goosebumps sprout along her arms, shoulder to fingertip, when his tongue proves warm, soft, and nimble. why had she expected anything less, with the stories and excuses he's able to fabricate with such ease back home? of course he's silvertongued in all aspects, not the least of which might prove to be kissing.
the end of her cigarette crackles away, ash getting longer by the moment as she opens her eyes, almost one at a time, in something of a daze. thank god he looks remorseful; the look on his face lets her laugh, lets her slip right back into the space they should occupy rather than the one she feels urged towards. the smoke, the drinks, the menacing mark at the back of her neck—she'd never want something like that so badly under other circumstances. not from either of them. ]
Done.
[ her voice is a chime, low and resonant in the din of the room. and she taps the end of her cigarette against the edge of the gilded ashtray built into the edge of the table. then she offers it to him, an olive branch, a consolation prize. ]
I think that's all I need to trade in. You wanna come with me?
no subject
so her smile falters as soon as he leans in, unseen by his eyes but maybe noticed by the other six, something not quite horrified but certainly shocked. she hadn't expected him to rise to the bait, let alone fall for it so readily. her eyes flutter closed as if they're really about to kiss, and of all things goosebumps sprout along her arms, shoulder to fingertip, when his tongue proves warm, soft, and nimble. why had she expected anything less, with the stories and excuses he's able to fabricate with such ease back home? of course he's silvertongued in all aspects, not the least of which might prove to be kissing.
the end of her cigarette crackles away, ash getting longer by the moment as she opens her eyes, almost one at a time, in something of a daze. thank god he looks remorseful; the look on his face lets her laugh, lets her slip right back into the space they should occupy rather than the one she feels urged towards. the smoke, the drinks, the menacing mark at the back of her neck—she'd never want something like that so badly under other circumstances. not from either of them. ]
Done.
[ her voice is a chime, low and resonant in the din of the room. and she taps the end of her cigarette against the edge of the gilded ashtray built into the edge of the table. then she offers it to him, an olive branch, a consolation prize. ]
I think that's all I need to trade in. You wanna come with me?