[ He still doesn't pull away -- because a small part of him, one that he'll have to examine and squash later, is enjoying the contact; he's enjoying the strange little show of intimacy and affection, feigned as it is. Peter wonders just how fucking starved he was for physical contact that he's letting her get away with this so easily -- and more than that, that he's actually enjoying it a little.
It's while he's wrestling with that little conundrum that she asks her question, and his eyes narrow a little and grow distant in thought. That he never should have shown up here goes without saying; that he's let things escalate this far without putting a stop to any of it is sloppy, to say the least.
(And a part of him, the part that's soaking in every little casual brush of her fingers and the flirtatious lilt of her voice, screams please don't go.)
At length he manages to drag his gaze up to meet hers. ]
What I'd like to know is, what makes you so eager for me to stay? One would assume our first meeting would have soured you toward the idea of any others.
no subject
It's while he's wrestling with that little conundrum that she asks her question, and his eyes narrow a little and grow distant in thought. That he never should have shown up here goes without saying; that he's let things escalate this far without putting a stop to any of it is sloppy, to say the least.
(And a part of him, the part that's soaking in every little casual brush of her fingers and the flirtatious lilt of her voice, screams please don't go.)
At length he manages to drag his gaze up to meet hers. ]
What I'd like to know is, what makes you so eager for me to stay? One would assume our first meeting would have soured you toward the idea of any others.