[ Romantic, huh? He'd never put much stock into romance. Or even seriously looking for someone to spend his life with. After all, he had so many problems with touch. He had not only doubted ever finding someone who would understand but—the mere thought of even letting someone he liked touch him had been too revolting.
And yet, here he is. ]
What kind of light would count?
[ He asks, trying for nonchalant. Whether it comes across, he isn't sure. Or maybe it's undermined by him curling his fingers over hers, thumb running over her knuckles. ]
no subject
And yet, here he is. ]
What kind of light would count?
[ He asks, trying for nonchalant. Whether it comes across, he isn't sure. Or maybe it's undermined by him curling his fingers over hers, thumb running over her knuckles. ]