Danhausen told her the plan with a hushed tone and quick glances over each shoulder to see if anyone was listening. Of course, nobody really cared. But Rhea was loud. She spoke as if the topic wasn't TOP SECRET, as if she had every right to reveal his grand plan.
The action came automatically. It was something close to PANIC that had his hand clamping tightly around her mouth, and frustration that had her back hitting into the wall. He stood close. Too close. Close enough that she could feel the unnatural heat radiating from his body, note the almost blended streaks in his face paint.
The silence that followed his scolding was deafening. His chest heaved with sincerity and the obvious anxiety the topic caused ( when spoken about liberally ) . He gazed into her eyes with the same usual, wild look he seemed to always have — until something struck him deep and he faltered.
It was the first time he had truly touched her. It wasn't a tag-in or slinging an arm around her shoulders in celebration. This was something that was, although not explicit, INTIMATE. An initial warning was shifting into something more--
Rhea peeled his hand back and he exhaled air that he didn't know he was holding. She spoke and her breath was searing against the skin of his palm, goosebumps wruptinf down his arm. He swallowed thickly, painted brows twitching just enough for his eyes to soften into something less manic.
"But there will be a clone." Danhausen said, adamant on that fact in spite of their current situation. "You will see. There will be two of him, yes, yes."
His voice was hushed, so much so that he couldn't hear himself over the sudden beating of his own heart. When Rhea spoke again, he was made uncomfortably aware of her. Of what shampoo she used. Of how warm she was, and how perfectly he crowded over her. The hand braced on the wall beside her head twitched, fingers briefly curling before spreading back out.
Danhausen made no attempts to move, and neither did she. It was a stalemate to a game neither knew was active prior to this moment. Lingering stares and late night thoughts didn't exactly translate into being close enough to see the whites of each other's eyes.
"I am." He said finally, decidedly. His gaze never left hers, expression falling into something hard to read as his mind began to wander.
You could do it, you know. It'd be easy. She's right there. She hasn't moved. We should do it.
That nagging voice was Danhausen to the core. A DEMON was a DEMON regardless of if he played the jester or not. He was older than anyone knew, had indulged in each and every sin known to mankind and then some. He knew what to do, how to do it, maybe even grant himself the pleasure of breaking her will in the process, too. It'd be easy, like breaking a toothpick.
He had done it before. He could do it now.
But... no. Perhaps it was whatever remained of Donovan that made him freeze. Or maybe it was Danhausen's many, many years of experiencing life as a human. Maybe even his genuine respect for Rhea. But all he did was hesitantly move the hand at her mouth to instead perch on the wall beside her head, boxing her in entirely.
He glanced down to her lips, temptation burning in his veins and forcing a heavier breath from his lungs. Subconsciously, spurred on by his own nature, he stepped closer until his chest pressed softly into hers.
"Is this a problem? Danhausen being this close?" It was the quietest and most serious he had spoken to Rhea - to anyone. The shrill, quirky tone in his voice was overwhelmed by something... intense. "Do you.... want him to move?"
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