( A muffled groan melts against his mouth when fingernails skirt along bare, scarred skin, words forgotten in favour of shallow breaths and the continued movement of her hips down against him. Hands find their place against his sides, skimming across ribs as Kate's lips drag themselves away from Ignis', kisses that barely take her lips from his skin making a path from his lips back to his neck.
A brief graze of teeth against the curve of his jaw, the curious trail of fingertips from ribs to the lines of his chest, brushing a thumb against a nipple experimentally. It's a start, a learning curve for both of them, obvious in the way each touch seems to seek out a reaction of some kind. A gasp or a shudder, little signs of what makes him tick. )
[The scratching of nails gives way to lighter, curious wanderings of fingertips as he comes across first one scar and then another, and he doesn't hesitate in exploring each one that he comes across. His head tips to allow her an easier path down across his throat, a soft and hissing breath drawing in through his teeth at the almost-bite to his jaw, a subtle tell of just which of her 'experiments' he seems to enjoy the most.
His hips shift (though it provides absolutely no relief at all) far too restlessly for any kind of concentration and a line of kisses runs down from the top of her jaw to the curve of her shoulder. One hand grips her thigh, the other sliding up the side of her ribs, almost timid, just for a moment, before cupping to the side of her breast.
Between softly laboured breaths and the sound of skin against skin, the warmth riding each heartbeat, there's really no room for shyness.]
( She has to wonder... Teeth find more flesh, less accidental this time as they nip and tug at his neck for a brief moment before her mouth skirts its way back up past his jawline to his ear, another light bite against the edge where lobe meets cartilage. )
Ah— ( A noise that's laced with amusement is cut off by a brief gasp, whether to the hand clinging to her thigh or the one snaking its way upwards is hard to tell, and Kate rests her forehead against the side of Ignis' head for a moment, stilling just enough that she can trace the tingle of his touch across her bare skin. )
What do you want?
( That amusement hasn't slipped from her tone yet, question a teasing whisper against his ear. )
[He laughs like he can't help it at her question - a soft, rushed exhale shaped into humour as he turns his head just enough to kiss the corner of her mouth.]
What I want, first of all... is to find a position in which I am not being chafed to utter distraction by my trousers. However-- [And he's smiling, wry and amused as he looks at her. The bluntness was obviously intended.]
I have my doubts that you have any intention of going easy on me.
[There's a gentle challenge in his eyes as another kiss presses to her lips.]
( She'll enjoy that kiss for the moment, even as his lips catch the start of a huff of laughter at the comments. But therein lies the rub, so to speak. )
Thought you liked a challenge.
( No, she definitely has no intention of making this easy, even though there's one incredibly simple solution to his trousers that her wandering fingers could take care of. Why do that when you can enjoy this night just a little while longer, comfortably perched in another's lap?
If you wanted to be comfortable, Ignis, all you had to do was wear different trousers. Or none. )
[Why do you think he finds you so attractive, Kate? Amongst many other things... she's a challenge.
He shifts slightly beneath her, and a few more soft, slow kisses find their way to her lips as he curls a hand around the back of her head. The other wanders, giving gentle touches to sensitive scars, and that amusement hasn't quite left his eyes when he looks at her again.]
I find that I enjoy presenting one, as well. [Ignis has handled worse discomfort than this in his life, and he can take a little more for the sake of hearing more of the noises she's been making. He leans back against the couch, a small smile on his lips, his hands on her thighs and fingertips drumming lightly, just for a few moments before he slides them both higher.
Inexperience by no means dulls ingenuity, and he's been paying attention.]
( Really? And here she thought she was being easy. Perhaps not on him, but in other ways. Her hands rest on his shoulders for a moment, pressing into each kiss only slightly, the reprieve from the thudding of her heart and the rush of heat through her veins more than welcome.
Besides, his bragging sparks curiosity, a flutter of uncertainty which feels less unpleasant than most do. So she sits back, eyes following fingers that resume lazy patterns from his shoulders down his chest, and lets his hands trace goosebumps along mostly-bare skin, waiting to see where his ideas will lead. )
[Ignis' ideas manage to surprise him, once he finds the confidence to follow through with them. The remainder of the dark hours give no chill to the room they share in the exchange of words and kisses; in touches that grow swiftly bolder; in the rapid beating of hearts and the unsteady breaths. The young man shows no uncertainty now, if indeed he still has it, when he makes the decision to take Kate to her bed and explore her body and nor when she (in short order) pushes him over onto his back to do the same to him.
He finds the humour in it. She's a woman fond of control and though he puts up a token fight against her urging hands it doesn't last long at all.
The dawn comes again, always sooner than expected, while the two lie sleeping and satisfied, side by side. Ignis, ever a light sleeper, feels a flutter of contact against his wrist and opens his eyes to find slim fingers wrapped loosely around it. He focuses on that grip, just for a moment, then brings his own hand up to cover it.
Kate is a strong woman, and when she shows her small vulnerabilities like this it stings gently at a tender place in his heart opened up just for her. He rubs his thumb against the back of her fingers, then closes his eyes again.]
( It isn't all that often Kate sleeps this deeply, or this long. But then, it isn't all that long since she collapsed from exhaustion. Her body still pulls her under for proper rest once it finds the chance, repairing all the damage done during the invasion in the most tried and true way: simple time. So she lets it. She doesn't really have a choice in the matter.
And she isn't really paying much of any attention to where her hand goes; the unconscious itch of discomfort, of worry, that peeks through a deep sleep a quickly disappearing spike as fingers find skin and rest against it.
By the time she wakes up, the first sun is high in the sky and god only knows what time it is, or if the clock on their phones is even correct any more. Slowly, she pulls herself from pillows and blinks until her eyes see things clearly again. )
... Morning.
( And she'll be taking her hand back now, using it to rub the last remnants of sleep from her eyes as she sits up. )
[He doesn't remember intending to go back to sleep, but time is hard to measure when the night only lasts a few hours and you can't be sure if the only clock you have access to is correct. When she stirs he does too, alert from the moment he opens his eyes, and the momentary surprise at finding himself in an unfamiliar room with someone sharing the bed barely lasts a fraction of a second before he smiles and sits up as well.]
Good morning. [The greeting comes out soft, and he pushes one hand through his hair as he stifles a small yawn. It falls back across his face immediately, and he brushes it out of his eyes to look at her.
Even without his glasses he can still see that she's stunning.]
( She might have had some idea if she'd looked at the time before bed, but she was otherwise preoccupied with catching her breath and all the sounds he'd been making moments prior. Kate shrugs, pushing herself out of bed and stretching. )
Ask if you want coffee, but —
( Well. There's not exactly anything to make coffee with, at the moment. )
[As it turns out, he's fairly vocal, if still quiet, and neither of those things had come of any particular surprise to him. He watches her get out of bed, following her movements with the smallest of smiles on his face - that same one Henry had so ably noticed, the one he can't quite keep from happening.
She mentions coffee and he can't help but laugh.]
I appreciate the thought.
[What he wouldn't do for a good cup of Ebony. He shifts out of bed and goes hunting about the room for his clothes.]
We should do this again. [He tells her, finding one sock and looking around in puzzled amusement for the other.] And preferably soon, I'd suggest. Or thinking about it is going to become a terrible distraction-- ah. [The other sock.] There you are.
( It's a good thing. She certainly doesn't mind the way it makes things clear, or the fact that he quite neatly unwinds under the right sort of touching and kissing.
As for Kate, she seems quite content as is, shorts still discarded on the floor as she grabs a towel that's been hung over the edge of the bed. )
... Were the plan.
( Sorry, Ignis, she's biting the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing at that response. )
[As she suppresses the urge to laugh he catches her eye and smiles, easily and warmly.]
I suppose it did go without saying.
[With his underwear and trousers retrieved and pulled back on (his shirt is still on the couch, he remembers, and his glasses too) he moves to her and drops a quick, so very casual kiss against the side of her head.]
Longing for coffee aside, I'll happily settle for water that doesn't make me act strangely.
( The problem with habit is sometimes you start doing things without realising they don't need to be done - like gathering your towel for the shower. Which Kate promptly remembers as soon as the comment about water's dropped.
Well then. The towel gets discarded on a chest of drawers, sat right next to a rather tatty looking stuffed elephant toy, the kind of thing which seems (and is) decades old. Instead, Kate pulls out underwear from the drawers and tosses them on the bed to be pulled on later with whatever clothes she finds suitable for this day which is steadily growing warmer. )
Have a few bottles in the cupboards. Help yourself.
( For the moment, Kate will content herself with heading to the bathroom, brushing teeth and walking out with a brush raking through hair she's finally pulled out of its braid. )
[A moment is taken to look at the stuffed elephant - not something he would have expected to see here - but he doesn't comment on it and instead leaves the room in search of his shirt (on the couch) and glasses (behind a cushion).
With both items back in their proper places and a bottle of water in his hand he sits down on the couch and exhales slowly, finally feeling able to take stock of his current situation. What he has with Kate now is... far more than he had ever considered having with anyone. Intimate relationships had never been something that time had been spent on thinking about and now--
Now, he doesn't have to think very hard to feel the memory of her touch on his skin or to recall the sounds she'd made... and the ones she'd drawn out of him. Things feel just that little bit different, in a way he can't quite put his finger on, but they do not feel wrong.
He's still halfway deep in thought when she reappears, and no doubt his expression betrays that his mind is elsewhere on top of the fact he barely appears to notice her entrance.]
( (And just what is wrong with elephants, stuffed or otherwise?)
It's a few minutes until Kate gets back to the living room, finally dressed, faded hair braided into a crown that loops around her head as she tucks the ends into place and tilts her head at the lump of Ignis sat on the couch, appearing half-dazed.
And not simply because she's gorgeous. Rude. )
Still tired?
( She doubts it. The expression isn't quite tired, but she can't put her finger on what it is instead. Contemplative? )
...What's up?
( It's asked as her fingers find the lid of the water bottle he has in hand, a silent request for a drink. )
[The bottle is tilted towards her and he lets her take it while the recognition of her presence draws its usual smile, if a somewhat distracted one.]
It's nothing. [He brushes his hair away from his forehead like it shouldn't be there, but it falls back instantly. There's going to be no getting away from walking back to his apartment looking like this.]
She takes a drink before considering her reply, placing the bottle on the coffee table and smoothing hands down her thighs reflexively. Years of watching relationships from the outside only does so much to help you figure out where to go with any of it, and a brief fling from years ago doesn't do much more. It takes a pause and slow words to approach this correctly, because the initial reaction in her gut screams flight, rooted in nothing but the fear of more pain.
Us. That, she supposes, is what they are - or at least could be -, but hearing it is another thing entirely. )
How so?
( Us.
It's what some part of her would like them to be, she supposes. )
[He laughs softly, clasping his hands together and looking down at them. Saying that didn't come without its own reaction on his part - the knotting in the pit of his stomach can't be easily ignored.]
It's... strange. I never realised I'd become so used to never wanting anything just for myself. [Ignis doesn't look at her as he reaches out and lightly grasps her wrist. Everything had always been for Noct, for Lucis, but never just for him.]
( She's not quite sure what she was expecting to hear there, but that clearly wasn't it and it's obvious by the expression that flits across her face, the slight flush to her skin, the soft o her mouth forms before closing. She presses her lips together, and for a moment remembers a time when her world boiled down to her brother and nothing else. When the friends she ended up making were regarded as nothing more than acquaintances and every part of her was nothing more than resigned to a job and a life she hated.
Even then, she'd wanted Marc to find the answers as much to secure her freedom from The Agency as anything else.
But all of that lingers far in her past. Years have been dedicated to other things, and in amongst it all, she began to find something more. And the more time passes, the more seems to be unearthed. Skills and passions, and a craving for happiness that has nothing to do with work or duty.
Though Kate doesn't say any of this. Of course not. That would require the ability to use more than ten words at any one time. And she isn't really sure what to say anyway. But a kiss seems more than adequate to express all of the things she isn't saying right now. )
It's enough, and she doesn't need to say anything for him to understand the meaning behind it. He leans into it, a light touch skimming up the line of her jaw before fingers slide into her hair, and Ignis feels... right. Different, but right.
When the kiss breaks he follows it with a smaller, softer one against her lips, then another, then he smiles.]
( It's strange, how quickly you can get used to these little things. How something like providing your response in the form of a kiss can quickly feel like the most natural thing in the world to do. She might not know what to say about that explanation, might not be able to understand how it feels to realise that or be at all used to the concept of hearing such things (but it's getting easier, since she and Faith finally said they were best friends, since the telepathic link locked in between them), but a kiss feels like a thank you.
Thank you for choosing me. For being here, now, and making this place better.
Kate's hand instinctively goes to try and find a loose piece of hair and finds nothing with it braided up around her head, instead tugging on an earlobe for a lack of anything else. )
No.
( Not that it needs to be said.
A pause lingers for a moment before Kate tilts her head slightly. )
This an 'us', then?
( and not just a thing she'll describe with a heavy pause before stumbling over the word "friend". )
[How strange, indeed, and stranger still how quickly one can become used to it feeling so natural when it hasn't even entered into your consideration of things until the last few weeks. All at once, Hadriel is brighter for having one particular person in it, and there's a kind of humble gratitude in being granted the opportunity for an experience that he would otherwise have never been allowed. One that he would not have allowed himself.
He looks at her when she asks the question, quietly searching her face for something. The way that he smile (just a little, the softest upwards tilt of his lips) says that he might have found it.]
I believe it is.
[They haven't talked about what this is, not really, but now feels as good a time as any.]
( They didn't talk about it for the same reasons they danced around ages and experience— it felt less awkward to just fall into things without speaking too much about it. But there's something to be said about having words and meanings to affix to what's going on. It makes things real, like the first time she called Faith her best friend in the wake of being brought back to life.
And honestly, she can think of several reasons to object — they're in a city that takes people in and spits them out just as easily, in the midst of a war no one asked for, and he is so much younger than she ever thought acceptable — but only one thing falls from her lips: )
None.
( The city may spit one or both of them out before they know it, but the world itself does that, and she's put her life on hold for the sake of the bigger picture already. It's tiring.
But if neither of them have objections, there's a city outside which beckons for her, for both of them, to get stuck in and working. So Kate stands, stretches her arms above her head, and steps towards her front door. )
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A brief graze of teeth against the curve of his jaw, the curious trail of fingertips from ribs to the lines of his chest, brushing a thumb against a nipple experimentally. It's a start, a learning curve for both of them, obvious in the way each touch seems to seek out a reaction of some kind. A gasp or a shudder, little signs of what makes him tick. )
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His hips shift (though it provides absolutely no relief at all) far too restlessly for any kind of concentration and a line of kisses runs down from the top of her jaw to the curve of her shoulder. One hand grips her thigh, the other sliding up the side of her ribs, almost timid, just for a moment, before cupping to the side of her breast.
Between softly laboured breaths and the sound of skin against skin, the warmth riding each heartbeat, there's really no room for shyness.]
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Ah— ( A noise that's laced with amusement is cut off by a brief gasp, whether to the hand clinging to her thigh or the one snaking its way upwards is hard to tell, and Kate rests her forehead against the side of Ignis' head for a moment, stilling just enough that she can trace the tingle of his touch across her bare skin. )
What do you want?
( That amusement hasn't slipped from her tone yet, question a teasing whisper against his ear. )
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What I want, first of all... is to find a position in which I am not being chafed to utter distraction by my trousers. However-- [And he's smiling, wry and amused as he looks at her. The bluntness was obviously intended.]
I have my doubts that you have any intention of going easy on me.
[There's a gentle challenge in his eyes as another kiss presses to her lips.]
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Thought you liked a challenge.
( No, she definitely has no intention of making this easy, even though there's one incredibly simple solution to his trousers that her wandering fingers could take care of. Why do that when you can enjoy this night just a little while longer, comfortably perched in another's lap?
If you wanted to be comfortable, Ignis, all you had to do was wear different trousers. Or none. )
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[Why do you think he finds you so attractive, Kate? Amongst many other things... she's a challenge.
He shifts slightly beneath her, and a few more soft, slow kisses find their way to her lips as he curls a hand around the back of her head. The other wanders, giving gentle touches to sensitive scars, and that amusement hasn't quite left his eyes when he looks at her again.]
I find that I enjoy presenting one, as well. [Ignis has handled worse discomfort than this in his life, and he can take a little more for the sake of hearing more of the noises she's been making. He leans back against the couch, a small smile on his lips, his hands on her thighs and fingertips drumming lightly, just for a few moments before he slides them both higher.
Inexperience by no means dulls ingenuity, and he's been paying attention.]
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Besides, his bragging sparks curiosity, a flutter of uncertainty which feels less unpleasant than most do. So she sits back, eyes following fingers that resume lazy patterns from his shoulders down his chest, and lets his hands trace goosebumps along mostly-bare skin, waiting to see where his ideas will lead. )
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He finds the humour in it. She's a woman fond of control and though he puts up a token fight against her urging hands it doesn't last long at all.
The dawn comes again, always sooner than expected, while the two lie sleeping and satisfied, side by side. Ignis, ever a light sleeper, feels a flutter of contact against his wrist and opens his eyes to find slim fingers wrapped loosely around it. He focuses on that grip, just for a moment, then brings his own hand up to cover it.
Kate is a strong woman, and when she shows her small vulnerabilities like this it stings gently at a tender place in his heart opened up just for her. He rubs his thumb against the back of her fingers, then closes his eyes again.]
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And she isn't really paying much of any attention to where her hand goes; the unconscious itch of discomfort, of worry, that peeks through a deep sleep a quickly disappearing spike as fingers find skin and rest against it.
By the time she wakes up, the first sun is high in the sky and god only knows what time it is, or if the clock on their phones is even correct any more. Slowly, she pulls herself from pillows and blinks until her eyes see things clearly again. )
... Morning.
( And she'll be taking her hand back now, using it to rub the last remnants of sleep from her eyes as she sits up. )
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Good morning. [The greeting comes out soft, and he pushes one hand through his hair as he stifles a small yawn. It falls back across his face immediately, and he brushes it out of his eyes to look at her.
Even without his glasses he can still see that she's stunning.]
How long were we asleep?
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( She might have had some idea if she'd looked at the time before bed, but she was otherwise preoccupied with catching her breath and all the sounds he'd been making moments prior. Kate shrugs, pushing herself out of bed and stretching. )
Ask if you want coffee, but —
( Well. There's not exactly anything to make coffee with, at the moment. )
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She mentions coffee and he can't help but laugh.]
I appreciate the thought.
[What he wouldn't do for a good cup of Ebony. He shifts out of bed and goes hunting about the room for his clothes.]
We should do this again. [He tells her, finding one sock and looking around in puzzled amusement for the other.] And preferably soon, I'd suggest. Or thinking about it is going to become a terrible distraction-- ah. [The other sock.] There you are.
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As for Kate, she seems quite content as is, shorts still discarded on the floor as she grabs a towel that's been hung over the edge of the bed. )
... Were the plan.
( Sorry, Ignis, she's biting the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing at that response. )
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I suppose it did go without saying.
[With his underwear and trousers retrieved and pulled back on (his shirt is still on the couch, he remembers, and his glasses too) he moves to her and drops a quick, so very casual kiss against the side of her head.]
Longing for coffee aside, I'll happily settle for water that doesn't make me act strangely.
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Well then. The towel gets discarded on a chest of drawers, sat right next to a rather tatty looking stuffed elephant toy, the kind of thing which seems (and is) decades old. Instead, Kate pulls out underwear from the drawers and tosses them on the bed to be pulled on later with whatever clothes she finds suitable for this day which is steadily growing warmer. )
Have a few bottles in the cupboards. Help yourself.
( For the moment, Kate will content herself with heading to the bathroom, brushing teeth and walking out with a brush raking through hair she's finally pulled out of its braid. )
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With both items back in their proper places and a bottle of water in his hand he sits down on the couch and exhales slowly, finally feeling able to take stock of his current situation. What he has with Kate now is... far more than he had ever considered having with anyone. Intimate relationships had never been something that time had been spent on thinking about and now--
Now, he doesn't have to think very hard to feel the memory of her touch on his skin or to recall the sounds she'd made... and the ones she'd drawn out of him. Things feel just that little bit different, in a way he can't quite put his finger on, but they do not feel wrong.
He's still halfway deep in thought when she reappears, and no doubt his expression betrays that his mind is elsewhere on top of the fact he barely appears to notice her entrance.]
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It's a few minutes until Kate gets back to the living room, finally dressed, faded hair braided into a crown that loops around her head as she tucks the ends into place and tilts her head at the lump of Ignis sat on the couch, appearing half-dazed.
And not simply because she's gorgeous. Rude. )
Still tired?
( She doubts it. The expression isn't quite tired, but she can't put her finger on what it is instead. Contemplative? )
...What's up?
( It's asked as her fingers find the lid of the water bottle he has in hand, a silent request for a drink. )
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It's nothing. [He brushes his hair away from his forehead like it shouldn't be there, but it falls back instantly. There's going to be no getting away from walking back to his apartment looking like this.]
I was thinking. [Obviously.] About this. Us.
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She takes a drink before considering her reply, placing the bottle on the coffee table and smoothing hands down her thighs reflexively. Years of watching relationships from the outside only does so much to help you figure out where to go with any of it, and a brief fling from years ago doesn't do much more. It takes a pause and slow words to approach this correctly, because the initial reaction in her gut screams flight, rooted in nothing but the fear of more pain.
Us. That, she supposes, is what they are - or at least could be -, but hearing it is another thing entirely. )
How so?
( Us.
It's what some part of her would like them to be, she supposes. )
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It's... strange. I never realised I'd become so used to never wanting anything just for myself. [Ignis doesn't look at her as he reaches out and lightly grasps her wrist. Everything had always been for Noct, for Lucis, but never just for him.]
And now I do. Because of you, Kate.
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Even then, she'd wanted Marc to find the answers as much to secure her freedom from The Agency as anything else.
But all of that lingers far in her past. Years have been dedicated to other things, and in amongst it all, she began to find something more. And the more time passes, the more seems to be unearthed. Skills and passions, and a craving for happiness that has nothing to do with work or duty.
Though Kate doesn't say any of this. Of course not. That would require the ability to use more than ten words at any one time. And she isn't really sure what to say anyway. But a kiss seems more than adequate to express all of the things she isn't saying right now. )
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It's enough, and she doesn't need to say anything for him to understand the meaning behind it. He leans into it, a light touch skimming up the line of her jaw before fingers slide into her hair, and Ignis feels... right. Different, but right.
When the kiss breaks he follows it with a smaller, softer one against her lips, then another, then he smiles.]
I did wonder if that might be saying too much.
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Thank you for choosing me. For being here, now, and making this place better.
Kate's hand instinctively goes to try and find a loose piece of hair and finds nothing with it braided up around her head, instead tugging on an earlobe for a lack of anything else. )
No.
( Not that it needs to be said.
A pause lingers for a moment before Kate tilts her head slightly. )
This an 'us', then?
( and not just a thing she'll describe with a heavy pause before stumbling over the word "friend". )
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He looks at her when she asks the question, quietly searching her face for something. The way that he smile (just a little, the softest upwards tilt of his lips) says that he might have found it.]
I believe it is.
[They haven't talked about what this is, not really, but now feels as good a time as any.]
Unless you have objections.
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And honestly, she can think of several reasons to object — they're in a city that takes people in and spits them out just as easily, in the midst of a war no one asked for, and he is so much younger than she ever thought acceptable — but only one thing falls from her lips: )
None.
( The city may spit one or both of them out before they know it, but the world itself does that, and she's put her life on hold for the sake of the bigger picture already. It's tiring.
But if neither of them have objections, there's a city outside which beckons for her, for both of them, to get stuck in and working. So Kate stands, stretches her arms above her head, and steps towards her front door. )
Think they'll notice I'm late?
( ... Whoops. )
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