[ That pregnant pause, the moment that hangs between them, makes Ferdinand think he's done something wrong at first. It's unthinkable to him that he could make Manuela — Manuela, of all people — even the slightest bit nervous, so the thought doesn't even cross his mind. Clearly, she's trying to figure out how to handle his amateurish acting.
That moment of hesitation, however, proves to be rife with distraction for him. She shifts in her seat, graceful and composed despite it all. Each movement draws his gaze to her legs or her chest while every word she says draws it right back to her lips. His heart races with anticipation, unsure how she'll respond.
And respond she does, with a challenge that makes his heart skip a beat. His words have a history of being clumsy and making the wrong point, all because he tries to be too clever with them. And the character he's playing is supposed to be a bit on the less thoughtful side. So, surely that means he should just speak plainly, yes? ]
I... think I have a few ideas.
[ There's a brief moment of hesitation, and Ferdinand's gaze darts toward the camera, as though hoping for some divine intervention, for the goddess to grant him the wisdom to find the right words and the courage to say them. But as his focus turns back to her, he finds himself drawn to every inch of her, and a hunger starts to build not in his belly, but somewhere much lower. ]
If you can give me some private lessons, then... I could show you what I've learned, every day after class.
[ He swallows hard, stepping closer. He almost feels ashamed of the way the fabric of his pants has started to tent, making it obvious that he's already starting to have a physical reaction to the mere premise, but he pushes the thought from his mind. Perhaps if he doesn't think about it, neither will she. ]
And we could keep going... until you are satisfied.
[ Oh, how his cheeks burn from his own words. Still, he tries to keep his gaze warm and gentle, hoping that Manuela doesn't think less of him for being so... so rakish. The doubt is enough that he's able to bring himself to break character for a second. ]
no subject
That moment of hesitation, however, proves to be rife with distraction for him. She shifts in her seat, graceful and composed despite it all. Each movement draws his gaze to her legs or her chest while every word she says draws it right back to her lips. His heart races with anticipation, unsure how she'll respond.
And respond she does, with a challenge that makes his heart skip a beat. His words have a history of being clumsy and making the wrong point, all because he tries to be too clever with them. And the character he's playing is supposed to be a bit on the less thoughtful side. So, surely that means he should just speak plainly, yes? ]
I... think I have a few ideas.
[ There's a brief moment of hesitation, and Ferdinand's gaze darts toward the camera, as though hoping for some divine intervention, for the goddess to grant him the wisdom to find the right words and the courage to say them. But as his focus turns back to her, he finds himself drawn to every inch of her, and a hunger starts to build not in his belly, but somewhere much lower. ]
If you can give me some private lessons, then... I could show you what I've learned, every day after class.
[ He swallows hard, stepping closer. He almost feels ashamed of the way the fabric of his pants has started to tent, making it obvious that he's already starting to have a physical reaction to the mere premise, but he pushes the thought from his mind. Perhaps if he doesn't think about it, neither will she. ]
And we could keep going... until you are satisfied.
[ Oh, how his cheeks burn from his own words. Still, he tries to keep his gaze warm and gentle, hoping that Manuela doesn't think less of him for being so... so rakish. The doubt is enough that he's able to bring himself to break character for a second. ]
Is... is that alright, Manuela?