[ His kneejerk reaction is, again, irritation. A white-hot flare of anger that's been sharpened on both ends, directed at Vietnam for being so dense, and more prominently at himself, for not being able to convey himself in a way that should convey his point without cause for misunderstanding.

That's not it, he wants to say. How are you so blind?

But he toys with his own words for the moment, exasperated by his own childishness but finding nothing within himself to want to stop. In his absence of a real retort, he runs the flat of his sharp canines along the outline of Vietnam's earlobe. Evaluating, but more importantly, savoring. ]

And you didn't think to use your... calling machine?

[ The word is 'cellphone', but he can't be bothered— he presses up against Vietnam more fully, keeping his weight right along the rise and fall of her chest.

(a little voice in the back of his head says didn't you want to see me? I did, I've been waiting for you all day.) ]

I could have walked you home. ...You need to be more self-aware.