The distance between them disappears with surprising swiftness.
Most men crowded a room when they wanted something. They leaned too close and reached too quickly. Often times mistaking proximity for familiarity. He, however, appears to move with purpose. Deliberate. Measured. As though every gesture had already been rehearsed long before he'd ever stepped foot in this room.
She had to wonder if any part of him was genuine.
Kitty watches him over the rim of her glass as he approaches, saying nothing when he plucks the glass from her hand. The corner of her mouth twitches faintly at the sight of him drinking from it. His gesture is impossible to miss for what it is.
The kiss pressed to her knuckles earns a soft hum and a flicker of her tail, though whether it is amusement or acknowledgment remains difficult to tell. Her hand remains relaxed within his grasp for only a moment before she gently reclaims it, fingers slipping free with a practiced eased.
There was a time she might have mistaken gestures like these for affection.
A younger woman, perhaps. . . . A lonelier one. But life had a funny way of teaching lessons twice when the first time wasn't enough. It's given her many opportunities to learn how to protect herself.
❛ You seem to enjoy making an impression. ❜
The observation is offered lightly, absent of judgment. If anything, there is something quietly fond in it. Like noticing a particularly beautiful snake basking in the sun. She could relate, after all.
He then poses his own question: What makes your heart race? A curious thing to ask.
Kitty's eye drifts briefly toward the dim lights beyond the room before returning to him. Her expression is a touch softer. She chooses to give a small piece of honesty. Nothing incriminating, but honest nonetheless.
❛ Peace, I think, ❜ she muses with a soft laugh. ❛ Isn't that a terribly disappointing answer? ❜ The mouse offers up a small shrug, like she is the one who is disappointed.
❛ Most people expect something grand. Passion. Romance. Adventure. ❜ The smile that follows is warm, though it never quite reaches her eyes. ❛ But excitement is easy to find. It's the quiet things that seem determined to stay out of reach. ❜
She resumes studying him, trying to assess what his prerogative possibly could be. His careful confidence. The charm he seems so willing to play up. The way he is occupying every inch of space around him without appearing to try.
❛ And what about you? ❜ she asks softly. ❛ What answer do you usually hope for when you ask someone a question like that? ❜
