[Her hand is so warm in his, and he feels a surge of gratitude, relief, elation. This is real, and she isn't realising all his worst fears and turning him away, despite his expectations. He draws her hand up to his lips and kisses it as a Fódlan gentleman might, but there's no real formality in the gesture. His expression is both playful and indescribably fond as his gaze lifts to meet hers.
Then Claude-- no, he was Khalid to her now, wasn't he? -- lowers her hand again, gives it a squeeze as he steps closer to close the distance between them, studying her face as if to remember this moment, engrave it on his heart.]
Can I...?
[His eyes go from her lips and upward again. He's asking permission this time, to make up for the desperation he had sprung on her in the roots.]
no subject
Then Claude-- no, he was Khalid to her now, wasn't he? -- lowers her hand again, gives it a squeeze as he steps closer to close the distance between them, studying her face as if to remember this moment, engrave it on his heart.]
Can I...?
[His eyes go from her lips and upward again. He's asking permission this time, to make up for the desperation he had sprung on her in the roots.]