[ It wasn't long. That's categorically true, but just try to take wartime habits out of someone who was born into strife— she won't succeed, not immediately. An hour is half a lifetime when people are constantly after the heads of the people you care about, and an hour is enough for Nagahide to have missed the scent of Vietnam's skin, the warm pulse of her blood under his palm.
He frowns. Combs through the repertoire of things he wants to say, because he has more than one complaint to level at her; where does he start? ]
What do you think?
[ The reply is petty, and he knows it. If he were better with his words, he would dress them in softer terms and speak them gently, but selfishness trumps tact. ]
It's nighttime. A woman like you shouldn't be walking outside alone. [ Blunt, clipped, and slightly awkward. He draws closer, skimming his lips over the outline of Vietnam's jaw. ] ...Or were you with someone else?
no subject
He frowns. Combs through the repertoire of things he wants to say, because he has more than one complaint to level at her; where does he start? ]
What do you think?
[ The reply is petty, and he knows it. If he were better with his words, he would dress them in softer terms and speak them gently, but selfishness trumps tact. ]
It's nighttime. A woman like you shouldn't be walking outside alone. [ Blunt, clipped, and slightly awkward. He draws closer, skimming his lips over the outline of Vietnam's jaw. ] ...Or were you with someone else?