@derisiveheart: Nothing in his hands, nothing up his sleeve. But, a box on the head of the medjed accompanying him that would be recognizable to anyone who vaguely knew the brand. With a pinch of her ear he'd grab her attention, his demeanor overall lax for what it was worth. "I think this is for you. Can't remember why, but someone gave me this." All he did was answer a question after all.
✫ 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝑒'𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉, 𝒽𝑒'𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂. The proud queen has already forsaken him, but only now does he choose to pursue things. Conflict brews in her stormy eyes, mind racing with memories of how this all played out last year. Last year, though she’d given him an invitation ( and one he technically accepted ), she lost to her pride and failed to see it through.
“Yes, that was bestowed upon you long ago. To see it again... I did not think I ever would.” She gazes at him and that typical, absentminded look that he's only ever known. Always has he been insolent, even after three separations. Despite shunning her each and every time, he still uncannily comes and delivers her this... request. He doesn’t even know the implications behind it, does he? Even if she were to accept it willingly, and even if she were to reciprocate it, he would not even remember it come the next morning.
...He would not remember it come the next morning.
“...” A lengthy period of silence. The only sounds that follow are that of her own Medjed cloak as it shifts around her shoulders, box suddenly vanishing as it finds itself opened, their bodies disappearing behind a veil of white. What transpires over the next few seconds are disclosed beneath the shuffle of the sheet, and by the time it completes its cycle back around her shoulders, she has already separated from him, hands placed curiously atop her lips, and a smudge of strawberry on his.
...He will not remember this. But. It’s fine, she thinks. Just this once, it’s fine. Without another word, she gives him one last look before fleeting into the darkness.
