tactical-striker.:
Kain’s mouth turned down slightly, a shadow of a frown. “Well, if you don’t need me, then why should I-”
He stopped himself from going further. This kind of banter was turning south into something he was going to regret. Especially over something silly like getting the last word. Still, he thought a bit on her words, and started again carefully.
“It’s not as though I wasn’t around because I didn’t want to be here.” To see you, he wanted to say, but apologies first. “I wanted to be here more times, but… well. I haven’t . Forgive me.”
☆ No reasoning. Without a true answer, she felt the jealousy and anger swell in a flush about her cheeks. But Tifa’s gaze fell downcast. Emotions swirling and spouting from her tongue, as though she a child easily reactive. When her heart lay on her sleeve and bruised itself over the romanticism of war and childhood.
Her shoulders lost their tension. Her tongue lost it’s flare. She turned and found a rationale. “I’m sure… You’d like another refill on your drink? If you’d like to stay longer.”
He didn’t expect his piss-poor explanation to ameliorate things, but the redness that blossomed in her cheeks and that waspish look on her face didn’t exactly reassure him either. The tension was such that he could feel how tight his shoulders tensed and his jaw set to prepare for the things to come.
But just like that, she relaxed first and it was like instead of a dam bursting it was a calm river flowing down once again.
“I would like another refill, if I’m not getting cut off anytime soon. Or mind if I stay as long as I liked.”
