oh she might not like the patterns blooming across his skin underneath his glamours, but he doubted she would argue with the fact that they let him slip his way from his hotel room across the world back to her side, the kumiho carefully balancing himself with a hand as he leaned over the tangle of blankets to find her, cheek brushing briefly against her temple before he kissed the same space.
"i know you're awake, nabi. i heard the way your breath caught when you caught my scent."
When her set of messages were left unread, Rumi assumed that he was either on the plane or busy doing whatever reformed demon boy bands did while abroad. It didn't help the worry nipping at edges of her thoughts but her own busy schedule had done enough to distract her from the more pressing questions.
He — they, would be home soon. She could trust they would be on their best behavior with little interference from the hunters abroad. By the time she'd returned back to the penthouse and had retired for the night, Rumi had all but accepted @foxidol wouldn't be answering for a while.
It's fine. She's fine. Everything is — and then there it was, that shimmery familiar scent of his, that idle electric charge that filled the room whenever something supernatural was near. As a ghost of a kiss presses against her temple, the ever present pout of hers takes form.
"All day I waited for a response. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."