( satisfied with her terrible choices — the quip, not the man — athénaïs tilts obligingly as directed, the grip of her hand still entwined with his between them tightening. it is a sweet, even chaste kiss for a moment, and a breath parts them, and when she shifts closer again the second kiss has a decisive thoroughness— she tastes like the expensive vintage only one of them can actually afford, and the sweet she’d eaten at the previous establishment before he joined her, and some other thing that’s just her, probably, magic and elven and individual.
heroically, when they part, she manages not to crack wise about his being expensive. (though it may be too much to hope that she won’t be workshopping the funniest way to retell that, later, when she’s up late drinking something lucanis-approved with neve when everyone’s meant to be sleeping.) )
I know what I like, ( she says, instead, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. ) And what I want.
no subject
heroically, when they part, she manages not to crack wise about his being expensive. (though it may be too much to hope that she won’t be workshopping the funniest way to retell that, later, when she’s up late drinking something lucanis-approved with neve when everyone’s meant to be sleeping.) )
I know what I like, ( she says, instead, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. ) And what I want.