[ He'd always try not to be rough, of course— he's strong, but he's not like, say, Komachi, who could probably punch holes in walls— but he'd still have to be reminded from time to time that the metal embedded in him bruise when they jostle too hard, or that he's heavier than he looks. Small things, but they add up.
He watches Oona's cheeks go red, feels her flush against his skin. It's the sort of warmth that he knows he'll remember, the kind that he'd forgotten for a while. So he covets it with his palm and fingers, memorizes it before pulling his hand back to replace it with his lips. ]
Yeah. I know better than to underestimate you by now.
[ Simply, but with a hint of affection that might have been exasperation just a few months ago. ]
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He watches Oona's cheeks go red, feels her flush against his skin. It's the sort of warmth that he knows he'll remember, the kind that he'd forgotten for a while. So he covets it with his palm and fingers, memorizes it before pulling his hand back to replace it with his lips. ]
Yeah. I know better than to underestimate you by now.
[ Simply, but with a hint of affection that might have been exasperation just a few months ago. ]
...But you still barely reach my shoulders.
[ Read: 'you're so small, goddamn'. ]