sweethymns | Tᕼᙓ ᕼOᒪIᗪᗩY ᑭOᔕT

I got you rooted here don't I?

[Brown eyes look into his green ones, finally.]

I'm off to a great start.

[The fact that they're the only two people in the cafe is palpable, a tension that would have been too much if it were anyone else that didn't have the poise and composure of this pair.

She makes her first move...

Which is ruffling his hair again.]

It's nice to see you're trying so hard though.

[ Oh, for God's sake. He would have laughed if he weren't playing the part of the innocent, though that in itself is getting tiresome— how do people keep up being coy, is it even worth it?

But he feels her fingers in his hair and she's finally made eye contact, which is as much of an opportunity as any to crane his neck and get even closer. His nose almost touches Iona's.

(This really isn't that difficult, he thinks to himself.) ]

I'd like to think I'm being attentive.

[Well, shit. She feels like she's done for and it shows in her face and the warmth radiating from her cheeks. Iona finds herself slightly scooting backwards after putting her hand down from Claude's head and leaning away.

Not so close, not so close...!]

Right. Right...! So you're showing that you give a damn sometimes, great job!

[More coyness or nervousness? Maybe a bit of both in this case.]

Yes, yes. My cold, hard heart, inadvertently thawed by the lessons of an attractive and vibrant young lady.

[ There it is again, that undercurrent of patronization. It's a light breeze through the whistle of his words, and he chases Iona as much as the restrictions of the mistletoe let him, braced on his hands with his back arched. ]

He didn't think she could look like this, admittedly.

[ Embarrassed, slightly sheepish. ]

You make me laugh. Ha ha.

[God... What were they supposed to be doing again?? Iona feels slightly dizzy as she depends on her hands to support her as she leans away and Claude chases her.

She does, however, reach up with her left hand (her right arm will help her balance) to pat his chest, where his heart should be.]

Still feels like it could use a bit of thawing out if you ask me.

That [ he says in between looking amused, self-deprecating, cynical ], would require a patented Christmas Miracle.

[ One that won't happen, he's very much aware. He doesn't harbor any illusions about himself, but still? He won't be able to get out of here without a kiss.

So, of course—

—he's going to milk it, just because he can. ]

. . .

[Flicking his forehead with her left hand, she is so mature.]

Look, I didn't pinch your nose this time. We've gotten so far, don't you think?

...Dieu, you're really making me fight for this.

[ And, as suddenly as he fell into character, he suddenly falls out of it; an abrupt transition that's only heralded by the exasperated rise of his brow and a return to his usual flippant self.

He hardly wastes time, once it comes down to the wire. He cranes forward with one hand braced on the table, and the other moves to scoot Iona back closer towards him by looping around her waist and pulling inwards.

What was that about being all talk, again? ]

We've gotten very far. Now, do close your eyes.

Edited 2015-12-15 07:06 (UTC)

[HA, she's way more amused than she should be by the fact that she made him exasperated. So when he pulls her closer, Iona puts her hands on his shoulders, letting out a laugh and shaking her head.]

Hell yeah, I'm making you fight for it.

Which is why...

[... Which is why she places one hand behind his head to tilt it towards her so that she can place a chaste, but sweet kiss on his cheek.]

... You're only getting that.

[ What was he expecting, he wonders. Compliance? Embarrassment? Mortification?

Whatever it was, it wasn't that: not the soft touch of her lips to his skin for a fleeting second, or her sly smile looking down at him from her perch on the table.

For a second, he's speechless. Finally. ]

[ A moment later, he scrapes his chair back (he finds that he can) and flicks the end of Iona's nose before getting up. ]

This cafe has terrible service.

Booo. And you're a bad sport.

[Iona does, however, look pleased with herself and she sits back with crossed arms and a smile that is dangerously close to being smug.]

For you?

[ He says, amidst a sweep of his jacket against the floor and a smile as wide as it is fabricated: ] Always.

[ It annoys him to no end, that he's let her rattle him like this— it's not in his character to be swayed by gestures, and that thought annoys him more than he can articulate.

But, of course, he doesn't show that in his expression, and only smiles before showing Iona his back. ]

Tᕼᙓ ᕼOᒪIᗪᗩY ᑭOᔕT

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