Despite the flirtation and offer for a pleasant end to their evening, not to mention the fact that she’d asked the other where else they might spend their time, the sudden sensation of fingers wrapping around her own is thoroughly unexpected. It’s an unusual event that someone is daring enough to lay a hand on her, an action that could come with dire consequences should it be undesired contact - as it usually was. It also came with the realization that Tiziri couldn’t recall the last time she’d experienced true physical contact, a warm touch that wasn’t the skilled hands of the brave doctors and nurses who had tended to her injuries despite her arguments. It’s an odd sensation, made only stranger by the smooth and unblemished skin of the younger woman, a stark contrast to hands worn and scarred from time spent truly earning her pay. It’s only her voice that draws Tiziri out of her trance, brings a breathy laughter rolling from her lips. It was no surprise, given Ender’s appearance and demeanor, that she would have no idea who the woman was, but the words only made it more apparent. “I’m afraid you don’t know me well enough, habiba. I have no heart to steal.” A statement that could easily be an act for the cameras, were there any around. Any who had gotten to see a behind the scenes of Tiziri Sadaoui became privy to the fact that theatrics were not a part of who she was, that the coldness displayed for the cameras and the fans was simply who she was, perhaps what made her so good at what she did. “Consider it a sabbatical from evenings of pleasure.” Perhaps the closest they’d get to the truth, a leave that’s reasoning’s were kept under careful lock and key.
in a completely different vein to tiziri , ender was the touchy sort . she was the type to hold onto the arms of her friends , to kiss them goodbye , to take them hand in hand to get rid of creeps at the bar that wouldn’t take no as a no . it was alien to think not everybody was like that but , then again , she required constant reminders that not everybody’s life was exactly like hers . she had grown up in paris , one of the most beautiful cities in the world , with a face and body to match — on the surface tiziri appeared to have experienced the same . ender couldn’t have been more mistaken . “ well , no , i don’t , “ responded the woman , their fingers remaining knitted , “ i tried my best but you weren’t letting me get any information out of you other than you’re unlovable , that you’re mysterious , and that you’re not interested in me . what more is there to learn ?? “ there was a slight bitterness in her tone . ender had tried , had offered the same warmth , had shown a sisterly affection and kindness towards the stranger ; it was like pulling teeth trying to get that same tone reciprocated . how was she to know that tiziri’s heart had been closed for business for decades despite the endless softness , understanding and tenderness of one of roswell’s cowboys . maybe if she had known she would have been more sensitive but , from where ender was standing , she was wondering why she — as the most beautiful girl in the state ( unbiased , of course ) — had been point-blank rejected . “ do you even want to spend the evening with me , or are you gonna spend it all being mysterious ?? “
