Python leans against the entryway of the knight's hall, diligently 'supervising' as his partner bustles about sorting and packing various weaponry and supplies for the trip to Derdriu. It's a bit nostalgic watching him buzz with all that nervous energy before a mission. Just like old times, except they're on a different continent, working for different folks, and have spent a longer time apart lately than they had for nearly their whole lives, give or take about a week ago.
He sighs, eyes turning upward and catching a stray sprig of mistletoe dangling from the archway. One of them dodged the cleanup after the big kissing spree, huh? He smirks, grabbing at Forsyth's arm as he passes and pointing upward.
"Hey, check it out. Looks like we're due for a good luck kiss?" He taps his own cheek expectantly, grinning like a fool.
“Huh?” Forsyth registers the situation just as he has crossed the boundary of no return, mistletoe dangling directly above his head. "Ah. W-well. As we are in Fodlan, we should follow their traditions…”
Forsyth had endured several kisses over the course of the holiday season; technically, they were optional if he was really uncomfortable with it, but it’s just a kiss. You can kiss a hand or even blow a kiss, if so inclined. Python wouldn’t make him do this if he didn’t want to.
That’s the problem though. Forsyth does want to. A little more than he probably should. They’ve never actually kissed before, not mouth-to-mouth–not that Forsyth is planning on doing that, this seems to be a cheek-kiss situation! But still, they rarely have shared hand-kisses or cheek-kisses, even. Casual touch, yes, affectionate touch. But kisses have been a barrier they haven’t breached much.
What are they to each other?
He walks straight up to Python, standing eye to eye. Well, as close as they can, Python’s always had a height advantage. He takes a deep breath, and…
Realizes he is still holding some supplies. This will not do; he excuses himself, places the supplies in their correct containers, and returns. Okay. This time.
Python’s still got that big, doofy grin on his face, though there’s a faint red dusted on his cheeks. Maybe it’s from the laugh he had about Forsyth’s supplies mishap. Maybe it’s the fact that Forsyth is very, very close, and their faces are so close together. And–
Forsyth swallows. He’s stopped just before Python’s cheek. Probably. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet. This is a tradition and Python’s being funny about it why is he making it so awkward. It’s a kiss! It’s a kiss…just do it correctly. But not with too much behind it, it doesn’t need to be any more charged than it already is, Forsyth doesn’t want to push the issue of What They Are. But also he doesn’t want to do it without any emotion at all, that’d just ruin the spirit.
