[She is close, and though he had not planned to move away, Sephiroth consciously remains stock-still as her hands roam over his borrowed shirt's ridiculous frills. As her fingers linger, he casts his gaze to fix somewhere over her shoulder, suddenly very aware of their close proximity in a way he had not truly ever considered before.]
I prefer black.
[He says, uselessly, regarding the preference of color. Is it warm in here, suddenly?]
no subject
I prefer black.
[He says, uselessly, regarding the preference of color. Is it warm in here, suddenly?]