Gen's expression remains bleary and distant even when he half-turned to look at Kiritsubo over his shoulder, gaze half-lidded and unfocused in the way that a person struggling to think through a fever often looks. But even if his mind is still struggling through a drunken haze, fixated so deeply on the crystal's images that he feels detached from his body -- his gut instincts are still intact.
The gentle stroke of fingers through her hair. The cadence of her voice. The faint scent that she carries on her skin. -- those sensations all combine to bring a specific person to mind. And in response, Gen's skin raises with goosebumps, the short hairs that line his canine ears rising to stand on end. A reaction born of equal parts ingrained fear and distaste, because somewhere deep inside he knows that the person before him, and the person he's being reminded of must not encroach upon his time with the crystal.
And even so -- ]
... where're we going?
[ It's mumbled a little reluctantly, Gen's gaze dipping away briefly. Despite his bulk and his usual presentation, his demeanor in this moment is more reminiscent of a child being told to come home by curfew; a youthful blend of obedience and selfish desire.
He'd looked up to her, after all. Had mostly listened to her kind advice and guidance. And the brush of fingers through his hair feels nice, making his nerves prickle. That's a good thing, right? ]
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Gen's expression remains bleary and distant even when he half-turned to look at Kiritsubo over his shoulder, gaze half-lidded and unfocused in the way that a person struggling to think through a fever often looks. But even if his mind is still struggling through a drunken haze, fixated so deeply on the crystal's images that he feels detached from his body -- his gut instincts are still intact.
The gentle stroke of fingers through her hair. The cadence of her voice. The faint scent that she carries on her skin. -- those sensations all combine to bring a specific person to mind. And in response, Gen's skin raises with goosebumps, the short hairs that line his canine ears rising to stand on end. A reaction born of equal parts ingrained fear and distaste, because somewhere deep inside he knows that the person before him, and the person he's being reminded of must not encroach upon his time with the crystal.
And even so -- ]
... where're we going?
[ It's mumbled a little reluctantly, Gen's gaze dipping away briefly. Despite his bulk and his usual presentation, his demeanor in this moment is more reminiscent of a child being told to come home by curfew; a youthful blend of obedience and selfish desire.
He'd looked up to her, after all. Had mostly listened to her kind advice and guidance. And the brush of fingers through his hair feels nice, making his nerves prickle. That's a good thing, right? ]