[ A heart attack would be the right word: his heart stops for the second it takes her to pull even closer, and that coy lick of her lips makes his own mouth go dry in anticipation or uncertainty, he's not sure himself.

It's when he feels her breath close to his mouth that he thinks about pulling back, but the resulting peck is so sweet that he can't help but boggle privately.

Yeah, she's still got one over him. His heart picks up where it left off, struggling against his ribcage (he's certain that Oona would be able to feel it, with how close she is). ]

...It isn't a competition.

[ It's a poor excuse for a rebuttal, and Adolf knows it— he sighs under his breath, expression appropriately exasperated. ]

You're the one that's going to be disappointed, if things ever progress to that point.