@bloomingflames continued from X
He had spoken the singer's name a few times, even tapped his shoulder. But none of that had been enough to rouse him from his slumber. It was fortunate that at least one of them could rest so unperturbed. He hadn't even had time to feel the slightest tiredness, his mind being so occupied with keeping them on schedule while remaining safe. Especially when the singer was so clumsy, for heaven's sake. Airport luxury stores were especially horrible, because all of those glass walls and tinted mirrors? If Marigold was not walking into one, then he was yelping at his own reflection in the other.
Bridal-carrying someone who was sort of your employer was not the first thing he had thought of when looking over the part of the job description that said 'possesses intellectual and analytical abilities to assess situations and quickly formulate solutions.' They had definitely gotten a few strange looks from the taxi driver and concierge staff alike - but no matter. He did not think that Marigold would appreciate having his feet dragged over the carpet while hauling him around like a ragdoll.
The door to the suite closed behind them with a soft digital melody. At least it was a nice room, with separate bedrooms. The study was facing a large window overlooking the shimmering cityscape. Those warm yellow lights dancing upon an inky background and the distinct scent of commercially cleaned towel and bedding finally triggered something in his brain - he was tired.
Perhaps that was why he had failed to assess the situation after all, and responded to Marigold's delicate touch with a silent, inquisitive look, even to allow himself to be lullabied by the tenderness in those thickly lashed, jewel-like blue eyes. He felt the nudge of his nose and the fan of his breath before Marigold planted that sweet, chaste kiss upon his lips.
He did not panic (yet). As much as his heart had squeezed painfully and his brain had sent all sorts of signals through his body. He took a few more steps and gently deposited the warm bundle upon the bed.
"You're welcome. I'll boil some water for tea," said Iwai, robotically. "Do you need -" Any food, he meant to say, but finally the embarrassment had caught up with him, the heart in his throat kind of scenario that made breathing difficult, let alone words. He had made it to the little refreshment counter, where the chrome of the water jug reflected his very reddened cheeks before he tried to hide his face behind his hand.
