[He says with what could be a touch of wryness that fades away as he watches her fingers run over his hand, tips sliding along the grooves of his knuckles not unlike Jean's did the first time they met. It's a bittersweet memory, a conflicting feeling, and it makes him ever so much more aware of the contact they have between the two of them. He wants to pull away from it like a wounded animal, but braces himself not to.]
no subject
[He says with what could be a touch of wryness that fades away as he watches her fingers run over his hand, tips sliding along the grooves of his knuckles not unlike Jean's did the first time they met. It's a bittersweet memory, a conflicting feeling, and it makes him ever so much more aware of the contact they have between the two of them. He wants to pull away from it like a wounded animal, but braces himself not to.]
Nothing new.