lazingroyalty | (no subject)

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[Oona's life had never really had consistency before. Despite being a mermaid, she'd found herself compared to a cat more often than not, simply flitting around wherever she chose to go; she slept where she wanted, ate what she wanted, and the only real consistency was work and only because she couldn't avoid that (and even then she didn't have to come in if she didn't want to, so there was freedom and choice in that).

She likes to think it's just because of how she is. More likely it's a side effect of having her life so strictly monitored and scheduled from her time in human hands; having nothing like that now was more a rebellion, a stubborn refusal to return to that.

Which is why it hits her as so strange when she acknowledges that she's chosen to spend more time at Adolf's place than her other friends' now. That she's started keeping things at his place, not quite moving in entirely but there are certain things that are without a doubt hers', and not simply borrowed. Things that don't leave when she does, like they normally did. Clothes, a few thing sin the kitchen. A mug that was almost assuredly "hers'" by now. Shampoo and other toiletries in his bathroom. The decorations and knickknacks she bought at random, furniture she brought to make the place look less like some basic militant-style place to sleep and more like, well. A home.

That realization, too, that she considered this a home is startling. Where were these thoughts coming from? It wasn't as though Oona was stupid-- brash and horribly impulsive, yes, but even she had her moments of quiet reflection and deeper thoughts. She just didn't quite indulge in them often, because it usually turned into things like this, making revelations about herself she wasn't sure she was comfortable with.

She sighs and steps out of the shower, rolling stiff shoulders as she pulls her hair up into a ponytail. Her work has her sliding into his house at all hours, though for once she was actually in at a decent time (she hadn't even bothered to go to work today was why, honestly). It didn't stop her from changing into more comfortable clothes.

Her gaze slid to one of Adolf's shirts, pilfered from his closet on her way. She had her own pajamas, of course, but they were mostly untouched despite any efforts on Adolf's part. He'd even tried just giving her the shirts she'd taken, but she'd only laughed and tossed them in his dirty clothes at the end of the day and took a fresh one again ("It smells like you, I like it" she'd said once and Adolf's face had done a funny twitch before his hand was covering it and he was walking away, Oona's laughter trailing after him for a little longer than was probably necessary).

She was too damn fond of that eel.

His shirt pulled over her head (she was practically swimming in it and something about that always put her in a much more chipper mood, and she even put underwear on just for him because otherwise he probably would be very opposed to her climbing on his lap anytime soon. Oona chose her battles wisely and this was one she had given up on fighting), she deliberately avoided glancing in the bathroom mirror before she exited to go search out her eel.]

Do you think it is strange? [it's the first thing she says when she finds him. What a good way to start a conversation, right in the middle.]

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[ It seems like Oona is always laughing at him, but then again, the people who edge into his heart have always been that way. Generous with their smiles, willing to reach out. Circumstances have often been unkind, and he hadn't been afforded— or he hadn't afforded himself— the liberty of reaching back, of tentatively lacing fingers in fingers.

A part of him apologizes for what he's doing. Sorry, is what he repeats over and over in his mind, as if acknowledging can make it less punishable.

One hand on Oona's back traces back up the length of her spine, travels along that curve to settle between her shoulderblades. The way his fingertips vibrate when she laughs reminds him of the rumble of thunder. ]

...Yeah. That too.

[ What are you even doing, you stupid eel... aka here it is, after 500 years of tsun, the one second of dere. ]

But you already know you're beautiful, so it's not much of a compliment.

[ Let's try to pass this off as an insult...maybe that will make this less embarrassing. ]

[She shivers and sighs at his touch; she's always been not-so-secretly pleased when he touches her, that he doesn't shy away from her scars. Not that she'd wholly expect him to, since his own are much more extensive than hers'. But they're ugly reminders for her or what all she had lost, the reason she never looked in the mirror anymore; the scar that runs the length of her spine only one of many but he touches her like none of it matters. And she finds that with Adolf, it doesn't. Not at all.]

Oh. [A soft noise of surprise as he agrees-- he's been surprising her a lot tonight, but she can't say she minds at all. With a slight shift she sits back and up, hands sliding to balance briefly on his shoulders. His shirt rises high on her thighs, Oona suddenly very aware of every movement and placement of their bodies in relation to each other.]

Yes, that is true. And many people tell me so. [Blunt, as ever.] But, it is not the same as when you tell me so. It is easy to throw pretty words around and not mean them, or to try and get something form the person you are saying them to.

You do not say these things lightly, so I know you mean them. And I do not lie, so when I say you are handsome... [Oona smiles, her hands moving to gently cup his face.] I like your eyes, Adolf. You hair and your scars... Ah, but, what I like most, is that you care. You try so hard to hide it, but I know. You are beautiful to me too, inside and out. [It's all said softly, carefully, as she does when she wants to make sure she is understood clearly. Perhaps he wouldn't appreciate being called 'beautiful,' and while she's made passing comments about how attractive she's found him before, it perhaps didn't have this level of seriousness behind it.

She looks away a moment, feeling a little embarrassed about it.] Hmm, I am saying strange things again, yes? I do not enjoy using words so much in these moments. [Which is thankfully easily rectified, since she then turns back to him and presses their mouths together, forgoing the 'no kisses' clause completely. The press of her body to his, the sheer adoration she pours into the kiss, is surely enough to get her meaning across when her words fail her]

[ He knows that he could've stopped this. Easily. A turn of his jaw, or a hand over soft lips. The usual, level-headed discouragement: 'what have I told you about kissing'. It means too much to him that he didn't, a paradoxical guilt and acceptance that eats at him. Oona is corrosive; he'd like her to settle in his bones, if she could.

Being passive is his second loophole, a secondary backup plan to assuage his stinging heart. It's the escape route he should take but foolishly decides to ignore, ruins with a curl of his fingers around the back of Oona's neck to gently draw her in closer. He takes care not to bump her cheek with the cold metal of his jaw implants, nudges her chin up just another millimeter so he can pry her lips open with his and taste her breathing.

When he pulls back, he keeps his eyes closed. Mostly so he can remember to breathe; one human function at a time. ]

Yeah. This is all pretty strange.

[ And when he exhales, it's something that borders on a laugh. A real, genuine one. He opens his mouth again after that, but it's only to speak in German: ]

You'll be the death of me.

[Strange, he says!] What a rude thing to say after we kiss like that. [But it's said laughingly, in a giddy, breathless sort of way that boarders on being deliriously happy. She wishes she were in the water again, wanting to swim and twist and do loops around the currents; she wanted to send waves crashing and whirlpools forming. There's a wildness in it all, for as domesticated as she might have been right now, she was still a rather feral creature at heart. She wanted to sink her teeth in and never let go.

His laugh-sigh makes her shiver again and ah, she is drowning, truly. She had never feared drowning before and certainly didn't now, but this was possibly the closest she came to understanding what it must be like, to have this wave of affection crashing over her and making it difficult to breathe.

The German is a surprise, partly because she doesn't understand and partly because the rumble of the words, the syllables, is pleasant to her ears. She hadn't heard him speak it much, hadn't bothered to teach herself any (and maybe, she thinks, she should if he's going to be a cheat like that), but it makes her pull back some to examine his face.]

That was your language-- German, yes? I like how it sounds on your lips. [She moves forward quickly, a little peck on his lips, and she adds cheekily:] And how it tastes. [And she laughs again, because it's silly and she knows it but that, too, comes with the delirious spell she seems to have fallen under.]

Strange, you said... Yes, perhaps, a little. But we are strange people, so it works for us. [Oona leans forward to rest her forehead against his, her voice lowering to a whisper, as if this was some secret she didn't want anyone to potentially overhear.]

I want to stay here, with you. As long as I am able, until you grow tired or too annoyed of me. [But there's a smile, only half-joking about that part.] Or perhaps, even beyond that. It is dangerous, Adolf... I do not know if I will want to let go of you if you indulge me too much.

I want you, I want this... ['This' being whatever it was between them they had right now, that she wasn't sure she could put a name to, not in English anyhow] I am selfish, you know. Terribly so.

[ There are ways to kill people without the accompanying pain, to apply pressure to a critical vein and cut off the blood before it reaches the heart. Adolf knows what that feels like, and this is it: the slow relinquishment of something vital. The only thing he has to give is a fractured soul, but he knows that once he hands it over, he doesn't expect it to come back to him.

He makes peace with that notion. These things have always been out of his hands.

Green eyes remain closed, in reflection or in cowardice, that's debatable. When they finally open, his gaze casts down to the indistinguishable shadow his bangs cast over his own face before it lifts to fix itself on Oona's big blues. Sinking is a good word to describe how looking at her makes him feel— submerged. ]

I know.

[ About her selfishness, which he finds infuriatingly endearing. He would have done anything for Rosa too, loved when she asked things of him, when she made him feel like he had things to give. That's a feeling that persists, a prevailing need to fulfill that one wish his mother had for him all those years ago.

His big hands cup Oona's face, keep her close as he inhales, exhales. ]

You should know by now that I won't tell you to leave. [ A beat, and he appends: ] 'Can't'. [ Because he feels like he owes it to her to be honest, on that front. ] Humans are weak, that way.

[She hums softly in acknowledgement, a noise that manages to still sound inhuman even in this form. 'Humans are weak,' he says, and she wants to point out that he's not wholly so-- but she refrains. She's learned by now that being 'human' was important to Adolf, for the similar reasons that not being so was for Oona. While she might encourage him to embrace the more inhuman sides of himself... Well. She wouldn't want him to change either way. She liked the human parts of him just as well, liked being able to point out behaviors and things and teasingly tell him how 'human' it was.

Her hands move up to lay over the hands that cup her face. He won't--can't--tell her to leave. The anchor has finally been dropped, a ship come to port at long last. She had thought about how she might feel on this sort of occasion before, and had met it with uncertainty. But now... There was no hesitation. There was no jittery anxiety telling her to flee; all she wanted was to sink in and accept this as inevitable. It wasn't 'enough,' now, it was 'just right.'

I like you, Adolf. [But then she pauses, hesitates.] Ah... No. I told you I do not lie. I do not like you. [Her smile turns sheepish and surprisingly shy, sweet, and she averts her gaze as best she can when their faces are so close. Her face turns warm beneath his hands, her heart thudding in her chest again]

I... love you. [She liked many people, but this certainly went beyond that. Perhaps 'love' was a little too strong a word. Perhaps all of her romantic inclinations hadn't been totally squashed by life (if her over-fondness of soap operas and romance novels was any indication), but there was a sense of 'yes that's the right word to describe this' when she said it as her shoulders relax. Being honest was always a bit cathartic.]

Yes, that is the word I want to use. I can not say 'like' anymore without it feeling strange. A lie on my tongue. I do not like you, it goes beyond that. [She glances at him and then away again] ...I love you. [A soft laugh and she smiles] Perhaps mermaids are weak that way too.

Edited 2015-10-13 06:13 (UTC)

[ That's a decisive blow, delivered so frankly that Adolf almost deflates. For Oona, honesty is a release; for Adolf, who lived in fear of honesty for what seemed too long, those three words feel like a heart attack.

It's ridiculous, really. ]

You say that.... [ Which sounds accusing, despite the level tone of his voice and the neutrality of his intentions. He knows what he's going to say is only going to make it worse, but he won't live this particular lie anymore, not just because it would be unfair to carry that deceit, but because Oona deserves better than for him to keep his eyes closed about it. ] ...But you'll still have to deal with the ring around my neck.

[ 'Sorry', is what he mouths, his jaw at a slant and his lips millimeters from Oona's again. This time, he's the one that closes the distance first, as if to assure that he's being honest, that this is him, for better or for worse. ]

I can't take it off. [ Not right now, not when those memories are still dear to him despite how things panned out. There's an apology that stings the corner of his words, leadens his quiet baritone. He compensates by pressing another kiss to the corner of Oona's mouth. ] Will you still let me care for you, despite that.

[ Because he'd like to, he'd like to protect her smile for however long he can. Acutely aware that his expressions range from 'nonexistent' to 'subtle at best', Adolf aims to look sincere— a lowering of his brows, accompanied by a firm— but not nervous— set of his jaw. ]

[At first she doesn't quite understand what a ring has to do with anything, before she remembers. Right. Marriage and rings and the fact he's kept his is... not very surprising. Adolf cared far more and far deeper than he ever let on. He would keep clinging to that remnant of his past.

She accepts the kisses, kissing him back briefly in an assurance that she's not rejecting him or that ring that served a reminder that she was certainly not the first. It wasn't a rejection, but Oona valued honesty, and would give Adolf nothing less than that-- but she had to take a moment to sort it out first, to find the right words.

It wasn't as though mermaids didn't share mates. Having multiple mermen under one mermaid was common, and while two mermaids sharing one male was fairly rarer-- Well, this wasn't the same situation. Rosa was, as far as Oona was concerned, dead and gone. Or at least, she had better hoped she stayed that way, because Oona certainly wasn't going to loosen her claws from Adolf now.

Did she mind? Did the ring really matter to her?] Stupid. [The affectionate little insult again. She tilts her head, a brush of lips against his own] I will, of course. Did you expect differently? Told you, did I not? I am selfish and will not let go.

I can be patient too, sometimes. Or, rather... I will be patient with you. [Because he's different, special.] I understand. I am not going to force you to throw it out, or move on before you are ready.

[If she thought of it more like a mourning period it was a little easier to understand, honestly, even if it wasn't wholly accurate. And who was she to begrudge him that recovery? She wasn't so childish that she would demand he toss it out and get over it already-- Again, she knew how deep his caring ran]

And, I do not expect you to say those words back to me so soon. You will when you are ready. Or you may never. It is alright. I do not value words as much anyhow. [Again, actions over words.]

[ Oona's reply drains him, pulls the tension out of his neck and shoulders and lets the pressure slide off his limbs and onto the ground. He'd laugh if he could, but instead of that, he slides his arms around her shoulders and holds her to him, chest to chest. ]

Stupid. That sounds about right.

[ Because he's terrible at saying goodbye, that's what it boils down to. It's childish, but a part of him is still 8 years old, one hand in his mother's hand and the other hooked to machines and wires. Arrested development is something they both have in common, however much they want to pretend it's not so or otherwise.

He cares for her, though— so much so that he realizes he hasn't thought about dying in a while, even after being wrenched from his chance to finally kick the bucket, even after being sent here. From one cage to another.

He cares enough that he acknowledges it, with words that he'd kept pent-up. ]

I won't make you be too patient. I know what it's like, waiting for something that won't come.

[ Feelings are hard; emotions are difficult. He settles back against the couch, tips his chin up to look at the ceiling. ]

...I won't put you through that. [ He doesn't want to hurt her, if he can. ] Let me practice it, before I can say it.

[Oona's happy to cuddle up to him like this, with his arms wrapped around her like a shield from everyday life.]

I like when you admit I am right. [her tone is teasing again, in regards to the being stupid comment. He may be a dumb eel, but he's her dumb eel. She wants to say, "don't worry about it, just like this is enough" but she won't because it brings up that "enough" word that she's getting tired of saying.

Instead, her tone turns sly] Does this mean the 'no kissing' rule can be officially lifted? [not that she...ever really listened to it to begin with.... But still.]

[ Ah. That's one less thing to worry about now, he supposes: they've crossed one hurdle, so he guesses he can start making allowances for himself.

So what he does is sigh, and flick one of Oona's earlobes. ]

No. The rule will stay.

[ Wow?! #juststubborneelthings ]

—But only in public.

[She yelps in surprise at the flick, batting playfully at his hand]

Ahh, mean! So mean! [At least it means she can kiss him all she wants in private...]

Hmph! At least it is only in public... You can make up for it by spoiling me when we are alone. [AS IF HE DOESN'T ALREADY. She hums thoughtfully, pauses, and then suddenly laughs a little]

Ah, was just thinking I would have to be careful about marking you, in case others saw. Then remembered you wear high collars and things. So, I do not have to hold myself back. [Her grin is quick and wicked SORRY ABOUT YOUR LIFE, ADOLF except not. This is the path you chose.

Look at your life, look at your choices.]

Marking—

[ Is what he parrots, officially bemused for the second or two it takes for this information to sink in. What has he walked into with this relationship, he's sure he doesn't know.

A hand instinctively goes up to his neck, rests there as if to cover a mosquito bite. He's wary... ]

—What does that entail. Is that a mermaid ritual?

[ Here he was, thinking that all mermaids did were sing and swim... he couldn't have been more wrong, apparently. ]

[Oh good it's Oona's second or third favorite thing: Mermaid Lessons 101.

She sits up and moves so she can sit more comfortably in his lap, resting her legs against the couch as she thinks of how to answer.] Yes, and no. It is not something that has to be done anymore. It is... like tradition? Not part of a... a law, or anything, but some still do it, because it is fun, or because they like it, but it is not so serious now.

[She tries to think of something human to compare it to and comes up blank.]

Before, when there was less of us, stealing mates was problem. So, mermaids would bite their lovers hard enough to mark deep, in case they were stolen. Now it is not so serious. Like, hmm... Love bites? Heals quicker.

But, I will not make you go through traditional mermaid courting rituals anyhow. [Oona tilts her head, expression amused] It is much more varied now, there is no use for the traditional, though I do like some. But you are not suited for them anyhow. [Maybe if his hair was longer... No, she can't imagine him with hair as long as most mermen so nevermind.

Her grin turns cheeky again] Beyond that, I simply like biting. It is fun!

Edited 2015-10-15 05:35 (UTC)

[ Well. This explanation is informative enough, but he has a good idea of what to equate this 'tradition with'. Something like hickeys, probably, which is something he's never indulged in before... mostly because there wouldn't have been a point, and also because his wife never seemed to be too into the idea.

Maybe because she was cheating on him. That could be it.

But he waves that thought aside, and shifts Oona so that she's resting comfortably and sideways along his chest. The TV's been forgotten, and he doesn't particularly mind. ]

So you never outgrew the teething phase.

[ That's an idle tease, dry, but not without some softness around the edges. A part of him understands that he should exercise restraint, stop himself from getting too comfortable too quickly, but. Well.

He cranes forward, finds Oona's clavicle from where the collar of his shirt dips too far down her neckline, and grazes the flat of his teeth just barely against the exposed skin. ]

...That's all you'll be getting out of me.

[It's truly a fortunate thing that Rosa will never ever appear in the city, because it's highly likely Oona would immediately drown her and/or rip her throat out upon sight. It's a cat fight no one would want to even bear witness to.

But now's not the time for revenge fantasies, because suddenly Adolf's moving and-- Oh.]

Ah! [Her breath hitches and she freezes. Once again, the eel's managed to shock (haha) her, and she doesn't have a comeback. Her face turns red and she hastily covers it with her hands, spluttering inelegantly.] Y-you! Stupid...! You can not just-- just do these things and not-

[Follow up! Or imply he won't do more than that!! Injustice.

Still, Adolf has managed to score a point in his favor, and Oona's wondering if encouraging him via this positive reinforcement (AKA being able to actually turn the tables on her for once) was actually a good idea.

She peeks between her fingers at him, pouting] Ahh, you are terrible...!

[ He pulls up from the crook of her neck, long bangs tickling her chin during his trajectory of sitting back up. The motion stops midway, though, because he decides very wisely and stoically to indulge in the heat of Oona's flushed cheeks from millimeters away. His face hovers close to hers, and maybe it would have been likely in every other situation for the green-eyed prince to lean in and kiss the mermaid princess, but. Well.

Those lips brush an exposed segment of forehead in lieu of Oona's mouth. Jerk. ]

...This is a lot, for my standards.

[ Will he ever stop being so wry?! The answer is yes, when he finally buckles and says ich liebe dich— that's another day, though.

Despite everything, he still handles Oona with care, with the same amount of consideration he shows for anyone he's decided is worth protecting; he tucks her closer to himself, cradles her shoulders while furiously trying to pretend that this isn't intimate. ]

What did you want me to do?

[Ha, an opening! Seeing her chance to swing things back in her favor, Oona's eyes narrow and cut sharply to him. While it's not like she has to get back on top here, it's... like a challenge. A game. And unfortunately, Oona can be fairly competitive.

~~Oona please don't take this so seriously or give the poor eel a heart attack--~~

She places her hand against his chest and twists her body slightly to press her chest against him, dragging the tip of her tongue over her lips to wet them.]

You do not want to know the things I would like you to do, Adolf. [She deliberately lowers her voice to adopt a more sultry tone and leans in as if to kiss him--

But she can't really keep it up and breaks character with a little giggle, giving him a quick peck on the mouth before she settles down again.] I think I won. [S m u g.]

[ 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.

[Oona laughs brightly, the smugness practically oozing off of her. WHO'S NUMBER 1. OONA'S NUMBER 1. YEEEAAHH. If this were football she'd be spiking the ball into the ground.]

Do not-- what is the phrase?-- sell yourself so short! I will not be disappointed with you, because it is you. Stupid. [But it's said affectionately and maybe someone, someday, should introduce Oona to more acceptable petnames to call your lover, because someone's going to get the wrong idea if she keeps calling him 'stupid.']

Besides, practice makes perfect, or so they say. We will just have to practice and improve. Often, if need be. I can teach you! [Her grin is wicked and quick, but there's only a soft laugh before she continues]

You are too funny, Adolf. You make it too easy to tease you, how can I resist?

You won't be disappointed for the reasons you're assuming.

[ And this might be a bit surprising, all things considered— Adolf is a gentle person, big scarred hands hiding a considerate heart that beats too loudly in his chest. His palm easily cups the entire length of Oona's cheek, and he traces that wicked grin for the second that it stays, as if to commit it to memory. ]

You'll be disappointed because I won't be gentle.

[ And he says that, states that as flatly as he can manage without letting his ears go red or his tone bordering on dismissive.

Because, you know. ]

[The smile slips from her face in surprise, red creeping up her face to the tips of her ears and down her neck. Her eyes dart about, unable to look at him for a moment and she tries to get her brain to jump start again.]

I, ah... [Another point in his favor. It was so much easier to pretend she wasn't actually so easily flustered back before this thing between became an actual, you know, thing. Now it was impossible to hide. Her poor reputation, in tatters...

Shyly her hand reaches up to curl over the one at her cheek and she glance at him, before looking away again. 'Shy' isn't usually the adjective one would use to describe Oona, and she feels a little silly for it--after all, she's not a virgin, it's not like she doesn't know anything, but it's surprisingly different when the talk and ideas are revolved around someone you have actual feelings for.]

I do not mind... if it is you... [It's half-mumbled, embarrassed, and her fingers squeeze in something akin to encouragement.] I am not so fragile as I look, you know.

[Oona smiles again, tilting her head to playfully nip at the tip of his thumb that rests near her mouth. It's not a competition--he's said as much--but she still can't help but feel like she needs to one-up him every time he gets her heart beating that fast and her face so hot.]

[ 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. ]

...But you still barely reach my shoulders.

[ Read: 'you're so small, goddamn'. ]

[Every bit of affection he shows her without her needing to prompt him is like another little victory, one right after the other. He's changed, little by little, in a good way and Oona can't help but feel proud about it (alright, so maybe a little smug).

It's the little gestures that make her happiest, if the beaming smile in response to his kiss is anything to go by. It remains even as she punches at his arm. Excuse you!!]

It is not my fault you are a giant! I am perfectly normal sized! Ahh, you say all these nicer things and then insult me so! [She feigns huffiness, going so far as to cross her arms over her chest and look off, nose in the air, with a little 'humph!'

After like 5 seconds though she opens one eye to peer at him, fighting a smile]

[ Ah, he know too well by now that he'd gladly suffer hell for the sake of this smile, that he can regard darker moments of his life with a melancholy fondness if it means that this is what it's culminated towards. It's his pride, what little he has left, that his pain amounts to nothing if it means that he can breathe freely in front of someone he wants to protect.

He has no clever retort to her teasing, no sarcastic quip or dry rebuttals. Eloquence isn't his strong suit, but he's already been told that Oona doesn't mind his silences; that does away with any awkwardness he may have had with his verbal fumbles, and he's content to remain wordless as he pulls Oona up into his arms.

Without explaining what or why, he gets up like that, straightens off of the couch with Oona in tow as if she's weightless.

She might as well be, to him.

His collar is down, he has no real defense against his own half-smile (it's there, astonishingly enough), and once he's done rooting around for what he wants to say, he finally opens his mouth. ]

It's fine that you're small. [ Brace yourself. ] —It's cute.

[ Ah. ]