theleadingman | avalon: inbox

W-well, yes...

[Just like that he's got her hesitating. Not because she has any lack of interest. She doesn't. Obviously she doesn't. But it does leave the blush touching her darkening just a tad more. She also knows she has a very difficult time letting him just treat her kindly. She isn't against it. Aerith has done things herself, by herself, on her own, for so long that having someone suddenly want to take care of her in any fashion is... weird.

Even Tifa knows there are some places one just does not cross with her without her instigating it or asking for it specifically. Balthier simply does as feels natural to him and Aerith isn't used to be mirrored in such a fashion. It's much easier to tend to him and focus on him. And it's not as though she doesn't get some kind of her own joy out of it.

Making Balthier happy does, in fact, make her happy, too.]

I'm not. I'm sure you know that.

[Settling her weight into her hand, she shifts just a hint, as if she means to hold onto something more modest than the way he might so easily fit right up against her. She likes him there. She knows that. It'd be all too easy to fall right into them. Absence seems to only make the heart grow fonder and they have a great deal of personal time to make up for.]

I'm just awkward. Still. Surprisingly. I know you said... practise, but uhm. Things have been kind of all over the place. I haven't been able to think about it as much as I'd like.

[Implying that she does think about it regardless. Of course she does.]

[He allows her to shift without pursuing her, picking up on the subtle cues that speak to a need for modesty, and he draws his hand back down the length of her thigh to rest comfortably above her knee— affectionate, still, but perhaps slightly less intimate.

He does, however, have to bite back a bit of a smile at that admission. Of course, it shouldn't really come as any sort of surprise, especially given he's thought of it quite a bit, as well— but he can't deny that there's a part of him that's quite pleased to know he's been on her mind in such a way.]

It has been a rather tumultuous time, yes?

[Despite his amusement, he does manage to keep himself fairly composed, his manner one of affectionate patience, understanding.]

You needn't worry quite so much about being 'awkward.' It does take a bit of time to shed such things, but I assure you, regardless of what impression any novel or gossip you've heard might have given you, simply being yourself is enough.

[Which is to say that it doesn't bother him in the least if they're fumbling their way through any aspect of being together, intimate or otherwise— what matters to him is that she's there.]

[Slowly and gradually, Aerith drops a hand from him to follow the path down over his shoulder, along his arm, and eventually it comes to rest atop the hand that's made resting place atop her knee. It isn't in an attempt to otherwise hinder him. It's merely another point of contact. Another place where she can subconsciously use her fingers to reacquaint herself with him.

It's really kind of amazing that the distance she forced between them reminds her to reassess not just herself, but what she's like with him. It's easy to say he makes her feel this way or that (at least to herself), it's quite another to just let herself feel that way unapologetically. Feelings are hard.]

Just because you're saying it doesn't mean I'm gonna be great at making that happen. I think I just might always worry.

[She isn't sure she's enough, which isn't something she's going to say. Objectively, from her perspective, she isn't sure why anyone else would think otherwise. It doesn't make sense to her. She doesn't have very much to offer, in spite of how very giving and caring she is. That can't be good enough. At least, it doesn't seem like it'd be good enough.

Maybe in Balthier's opinion it is.]

But yeah. It's been... a time. There was the whole thing with Celliwig and the refugees. You getting hurt. We couldn't do anything then, obviously. I still don't even know if you really have fully recovered or not. You seem like you're a lot better, but you might be hiding something. I think if you were trying to avoid me worrying, you would hide if you were still injured. And then there was everything after all of that, too. We haven't... really had much time like this together. Always somewhere we have to be. Always something we have to be doing. I wondered even back then if we'd do something like that again and wasn't sure that we would.

Oh, I'm almost certain you'll always worry.

[It is much easier to say something than to put it into action, and he's sure he understands that more readily than most. If he were more honest with himself, with the both of them, he would have to tell her that quite frankly, he's terrified— of the way she makes him feel and the promises he finds himself so eager to make, uncertain of whether or not he can actually uphold them in the way he feels she deserves.

He manages, somehow, to keep himself collected just enough to focus on the fact that he feels happy when he's with her, certainly happier than he is without, and that holding onto that feeling and sharing it with her has to be the most important thing. Everything else— he'll sort out another time.

Most things that are worth doing are terrifying in their own right, anyway.]

It does rather feel like regardless of your own feelings about the situation, circumstances haven't quite been on our side. I find myself feeling that it's quite telling, that we haven't had much time together, and I still—

[Well, how to put it? He pauses, clearing his throat softly.]

I feel as strongly about you as I do, all the same, and I assure you, not a day has passed that I haven't thought about doing that again since.

[Because how could he feel otherwise when she made it so easy to be vulnerable? Startlingly so.]

[Telling. Yes, maybe so. Being receptive to that kind of attention does come with its own kind of... transparency. Aerith hasn't been great about saying no, I don't want this as that would simply be untrue. It's part of how they've gotten to where they are. Not putting a stop to it brings them to the very prominent, very pronounced moment.

Just listening to him has her shift a little atop where he's seated her and she takes a moment to look past him, just to make sure they aren't about to step into territory where someone else could overhear them or... whatever the case might be. She's certain she'll already have plenty to explain at a later point. Like why she can't seem to make or keep a decision in place. Does she, doesn't she. Will she, won't she. It's all very wishy-washy and not one of Aerith's more prouder moments.

But maybe being a Cetra doesn't mean she's infallible.]

Oh—

[Her head dips a little, trying to be subtle about the way he flusters her right to the core.]

I didn't know you thought about it so often. It makes sense for me to. New and thrilling. Very livening.

[But none of that was really new to him. Well. Not the act, anyway. Aerith doubts she's special enough to make it more so.]

[Expressing feelings directly is, as always, a struggle— he wonders if he'd used up his quota earlier on, being blunt as he had been in hopes of getting and holding her attention.]

While I'm certainly glad it made a good impression, it was new for me in some ways, as well.

[He may have said so before, but perhaps it will ring differently now, with things out in the open as they are.]

It's not something I've shared with someone I care for in the past— trust me, there is more to it than novelty.

[In his opinion, it improved the experience in every way.]

It meant something to me, because you do.

Er—

[Aerith utters out something of a shy laugh and she finally raises her arms over her head in something that's a feigned stretch. What she's actually doing is buying time to piece herself back together.]

You're going to embarrass me if you continue.

[But maybe that's his intention. She can recall him saying that whatever he had with her wasn't something he had before. At the time, she didn't really know what he meant. She knew how she felt and she knew how it impacted her and her feelings for him. She didn't realise that they might have mirrored one another at that time.

Hearing it again, hearing it now does make her assess it in a different way.]

But I understand. I'm not sure I could do anything like that with anyone I didn't care about. I want to be able to do everything with my heart. So it always has to mean something. I guess even fighting with you means something because even when we're fighting, I'm using my heart to do so.

[After a pause, she continues.] I guess it's not really fighting. Arguing? Probably arguing is a better way to put it.

Embarrass you? Wouldn't want that, now, would we.

[Admittedly, he does enjoy seeing her flushed and flustered, but there's a fine line to be walked, a delicate balance between affectionate teasing and making her genuinely uncomfortable. His smile softens, and he shakes his head brief before leaning in to lightly press a kiss to the tip of her nose in turn once she's through with her stretch.

He'll relent, for now, but he's glad to know she grasps his meaning.]

I don't think anyone could ever accuse you of doing anything half-heartedly, that's for certain.

[It's one of the many things he admires in her so much.]

Arguing is perhaps a bit closer. In disagreement? Suppose it hardly matters now.

[It's over. He hopes it stays over, though he knows they'll have other obstacles ahead. The difficulties she's feeling are hardly ones that can be banished so easily, and he knows he's not without his own complexities.]

[Aerith murmurs something under her breath about Balthier being quite fluent in sarcasm, though the comment vanishes relatively quickly the moment he leaves a kiss upon the tip of her nose. Loosely, she drapes her arms over his shoulders. He's likely right. Anyone who knows Aerith even remotely knows that she isn't particularly good at not putting all of herself into something. Even the mundane and trivial fall into that. To expect anything else of her would be to expect something rather uncharacteristic of her.

Nothing special, she suspects. Simply the way she is. Simple Aerith being Aerith.]

I'm sure I could find something else for us to disagree over if you really want.

[She doesn't seem to be serious, though. Honestly, she doesn't like being in disagreement with him. It'll come up again eventually. It'd be impossible for it not to. There's no way she and Balthier will always see eye-to-eye and that's just something she has to be willing to accept.]

Either way, I guess you're right. It matters. But only a little. Only in idea. Whennnn... do you want me to put your laundry in for you? I probably owe you that at the very least.

[At the very least.]

I don't think another disagreement is entirely necessary.

[He's sure they'll come across another in the future quite naturally— it's only human nature, after all, and such things mean that there are feelings invested in the given situation, or so he's been told, and one can care for another a great deal without being in total agreement.

He leans in to press another kiss to the corner of her mouth, then pauses midway and laughs softly at her question.

Right. Of course.]

Ah, yes. The "lip gloss."

[He's still not buying that one, but if it makes her feel better...]

Are you sure you're not just trying to get my shirt off of me?

[She hardly needs any pretense for that, but regardless, he does take a step back and reaches behind himself to unfasten his vest. He knows better than to argue with her on this point.]

[He knows better. Of course he does. They're not going to talk about Aerith standing in her kitchen and crying on him. As far as she's concerned, it didn't happen and a wiser Balthier will continue to humour her on that. They know the truth. Isn't that all that matters?

"Are you sure you're not just trying to get my shirt off of me?"

Aerith blinks as she takes him in and takes the opportunity to carefully ease herself down from the sink in an effort to wiggle her way past him.]

If I wanted your shirt off, I would just take it off.

[No, she wouldn't. She says that, but when it comes to him, she still treads with care. She gets the feeling she'll always be like that. She can kiss him without permission for the most part, but for whatever reason, it's just not the same when it comes to his clothing. Permission first.

Patiently, she holds out her hands for him. Anytime is good, Balthier.]

[He gives her a knowing smile as he quickly works his vest open with well-practiced fingers, though without turning to give her a good view, how he manages to dress and undress without the aid of some kind of attendant remains a mystery.]

I'm not so certain you would.

[There's a teasing lilt to his voice, rather than any sort of judgment, and within moments he's slipping one arm after the other out of his vest before neatly folding it in half lengthwise and offering it to her.]

Here— since you insist.

[And since her hands are ready and waiting, his own are free to take care of the shirt he'd been wearing underneath— had been, as he's quick to raise his arms over his head and easily slip out of it, high collar and all. He ends up looking only slightly mussed in the process, raising a brow as he offers it to her along with his vest.]

Better?

[As she's accepting his vest with a great deal of care, Aerith wonders if he's calling her bluff. Challenging her. Entirely a possibility, she supposes. There's still plenty he doesn't know about her and in intimacy... things are still very, very new.

Thrilling, which she can think more easily than actually admit to. It's taken a hell of a lot of resolve to keep her from actually seeking him out.

Instead of taking what she perceives as bait, she waits patiently for his shirt. The first time, he'd been hesitant due to his scars. Those are still a bit new to her as well. It'd be very easy to get caught up in looking at him in general. Balthier is a devastatingly handsome man, though she suspects she very willingly ignored that or thought little of it for quite some time.

Although she offers him a longer-than-necessary appraisal, she's respectful. Mostly. Eventually her gaze finds his again and as she protectively holds his articles against a suddenly quickened pulse, she forces herself to speak again.]

Yes, thank you. I'll go put these in for the night. I can dry them tomorrow.

[Which is implication all its own. Assuming he'll just stay the night. He could have other places to be. Probably does, actually.]

If that's okay. You can... do whatever you'd like. I think Clover might be in Tifa's room if you want to say hi. Or Nanaki's. She sure seems to love him a lot.

[Though less self-conscious than he had been the last time she'd seen him like this, he feels a bit ridiculous without his shirt and all of his jewelry still in place. Still, Aerith's lingering appraisal will find one piece that stands out from the more colorful trinkets he tends to favor— a familiar leather cord around his neck, hidden by his collar until now.]

Tomorrow?

[One corner of his mouth quirks upwards. Tomorrow is certainly promising— for both the opportunity to spend time alone together as well as the implication that he's no longer staying out of his own stubbornness alone.]

I'm in no rush. I can certainly wait until tomorrow.

[Especially considering she's doing him a favor, though he knows better than to say so aloud— neither of them likes to think of anything they want to do for the other as a favor, they've prodded at one another over it countless times by now.]

I could look in on Clover, but I'm fine right where I am. There's no hurry, I'll wait.

[The kitten's company is nice enough, but she's not who he's here for.]

[He's had an opportunity to tease at her. She'd deserve it, certainly, for all that she puts him through, and yet he relents.

"I can certainly wait until tomorrow."

Aerith can't exactly say why, but just hearing that births a little flutter at the small of her back. The pull she has to him is an undeniable one, strengthened by their time apart. The heart wants what the heart wants. She's thought it before. Struggling against it has really done little more than amplify that.

She gives just a momentary look around the kitchen and then she nods. Probably too easy to get distracted with a kitten. Aerith knows it's almost impossible for her to get away.]

Uhm. Just give me a few minutes? Then... If you want more tea, help yourself.

[Because she can't very well say 'let's go to my room.' Well, she could, but. Why isn't she doing that, exactly. Aerith wears a frown for just a moment that she forces aside.]

You know where the laundry room is if you need anything, but I'm sure you'll behave for a few without me to babysit you.

Take your time. It occurs to me that while you've rummaged through my things, I didn't take the opportunity to do the same while I was staying here.

[His smile hitches wider; he does, of course, respect her privacy, and looking into anything potentially personal isn't quite on is list of things to do— if she wanted him to be aware of something, she would see to it herself, but he can't help taking the opportunity to tease just a bit more.]

Perhaps while you're occupied, I'll just see myself to your room and take a look at what you might have hidden away.

[Nevermind the fact that he's slept in there before. It is, quite transparently, an excuse for them both to relocate without her having to actually ask aloud. In the meantime, he'll collect both of their teacups— no use leaving them for later, or for someone else to come home and stumble upon.]

I thought you did that, actually.

[The surprise in her features is palpable, but it's the right thing for him to say because a few moments after, Aerith starts laughing. If anything, she's expected him to go through her things. Her wardrobe, her books, her plants... Probably nothing like her diary, but maybe a collection of silly little doodles Aerith does in her spare time as she relives her younger years.

Regardless, she simply shakes her head at him in something that must be close to amused disbelief.]

I don't think you're going to find anything particularly interesting, but knock yourself out, Balthier. I'll meet you there when I'm done.

[Not that he'll get much time to go snooping through her things anyway. Maybe. Probably.]

Thought I would be as nosy as you? Hmm, not quite, though I was tempted— remember, I was under near-constant watch, as well.

[Not that it would have made much of a difference, given that he did spend a good stretch of that time trying his very best to be a gracious houseguest as well as a gentleman. Her amusement brings yet more much-needed levity to the evening, however, and as she shakes her head, he briefly catches her hand in passing to give it a squeeze before releasing it and breaking away.]

Better hurry before I find anything especially good.

[Smirking, he carefully deposits both of their cups in the sink before making a shooing motion at her and starting the water. Taking care of them will be a brief task, and while he doesn't expect much time to look through her things— it hardly takes more than a few minutes to start laundry, thanks to the many advancements Camelot has made when it comes to quality of life— he suspects the excuse to slip away to her room is a welcome one for both of them.]

[Aerith rolls her eyes without a moment's pause. 'Especially good.' Only if he thinks her stunning lack of socks is especially good. Or her various collection of overly simple and nondescript undergarments. One could say Aerith is not on the cutting edge of fashion, as it were, and they'd be right.

She pauses for just a moment when he takes her hand and it's not until he releases it that she waves him off.]

Go away.

[Even though it's really her doing the going away part. With a smile and a shake of the head, she makes way for the laundry room, which probably doesn't see nearly enough action. Let him look around her room. Let him find nothing of particular interest to use against her. She doubts she could be anymore embarrassed than he'd already made her in the past.

Nothing is more embarrassing than him getting reactions out of her when it's just the two of them, she's long decided.]

[It's good to see her this way, more like her usual self— it doesn't mean that all that's been weighing on her is suddenly gone or resolved, but he can't help but consider it a welcome sight. Once she departs, he makes quick work of washing their cups and setting them aside to dry before heading towards her bedroom, the path to which he remembers well— he'd done his share of sleeping in there when she'd insisted on needing to keep a close eye on him, and though he had teased her about what might be possible in the stolen moments they had alone together, sleeping was all that both they and the circumstances had permitted.

Now, he's reasonably quick to make himself comfortable, leaving his shoes beyond the foot of the bed before he goes to seat himself on the edge of the mattress. Curiously, he does take a moment to pull the top drawer of her nightstand open just long enough to take a quick look inside, but opts not to do much actual rummaging. He sees some of the basic items one might expect, and even after a couple of months in his flat, Aerith's room looks decidedly more lived-in than any in his own home, something that gives it a comfortable and welcoming air.

He slides the drawer closed after another moment, swinging his legs up onto the bed and sliding so that he's propped up against the pillows as best he can be when there's shelves of plants behind them rather than a headboard, and idly reaches for the book she's left on the nightstand before crossing his legs at the ankle and thumbing through it.]

Hm, perhaps another romance novel...?

[More likely something on plants, though in truth he knows Aerith to keep quite a variety of books on hand from his stay here.]

[Aerith finds herself at the same impasse she's been at a few times before. Balthier's finery is probably some of the nicest stuff she's been able to put her hands on. Certainly nicer than most of Midgar's garb to say nothing of her own. There's just no room for comparison there. As such, trying to figure out the best way to clean his clothes without accidentally ruining them is always a chore.

But that's what a delicate cycle was made for and it's what she used last time. Drying normally just doesn't seem like a good idea either. She'd hate to make it shrink and have him no longer fit in it. Consequently, she decides that it'll be another evening of hanging his clothes to dry when they're done.

She loses track of time easily. It's probably more than just a mere few minutes that she had quoted to him. But eventually she does make her way back toward her room where she finds him quite at home. With a nose in one of her books. Having not expected him, it's not as if she had the time to go around and hide anything potentially embarrassing. As such, leaning to get a better look at what he's reading, she finds what is, indeed, a romance novel that's over the top, unrealistic, and fantastical. Little more than intense love scenes, ravaging poetry, and so on. Unsurprisingly, a little fitting when it comes to what Aerith's tastes must be like.

Quietly, she closes her door, sets her back against it.]

Did you find something you like?

[He lifts his chin slightly to look at her over the top of the book itself, that familiar crooked smile of his in its place. His gaze moves along her form quite openly; she only has to stand there with her back to the door for his breath to catch in his throat, and he is astonished, not for the first time, at what an easy mark he's turned out to be.

'I won't beg,' he'd told her some weeks back. 'I'll accept this and go,' he'd told himself on more than one occasion. As it turns out, those were just words, and he can't even begin to bring himself to be sorry.

The book and its colorful contents are immediately forgotten, and he snaps it closed with one hand before setting it down on the bedspread beside him. It's hardly the first book of that nature he's picked up, and he's certain it won't be the last— fantastical though it may be, sometimes that's precisely what the heart wants.]

I have now.

[His attention is evident. Transparent. She toys with the idea of simply ignoring it or giving in to the way it leaves her just a touch flustered. She opts for the former, clearing her throat when she catches what he's looking at. Maybe she should have left him for some private time with her book, though she doubts that's really his type of interest. He probably has a very refined taste in his romance novels.

Aerith is not about to ask.

Her eyebrow raise when he finally addresses her. It's very probable that he's indicating her directly. Better not to acknowledge it like that either.]

If you like it so much— [She gestures to the book that he sets down before she starts to approach, lifting her hands to begin working her hair down from the pink ribbon holding it up.] —you can borrow it, if you want.

I'm not talking about the book.

[But he's fairly certain they both know that. He sits up straight to give her his full attention, one hand resting against the mattress to support himself as he fixes his gaze on her, watching her pull her ribbon free. He's only seen her with her hair down in full for any length of time once before, but it's not a sight he'll soon forget.]

Interesting use of language by the author, however. 'Quiver' came up a fair few times— far more than one might expect in the span of ten pages.

[The intensity of his gaze is lessened by the amused scrunch of his nose that follows, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease as he so often does— it's been far too long since he's had the chance. As she approaches, he rests his hand against her hip before sliding his arm around her waist in full, and he doesn't think he can begin to articulate just how glad he is to be this close to her again, to be able to reach out and touch her in a way he'd become all too accustomed to in a remarkably short period of time.]

I could handle that for you, you know— your hair.

[Or maybe he just wants an excuse to run his fingers through it.]

[Of course he's not talking about the book. Aerith doesn't outright acknowledge he's said it, but the moment he starts talking about 'quiver,' she grins and even looses a laugh.]

You were keeping count? I definitely wasn't. I don't even think I've ever said the word 'quiver' before. Maybe the writer didn't know any other words that meant the same thing.

[For some moments, she's thinking about the variety of words that could be used. When he carefully coils his hold about her, she's in the midst of carefully tying her ribbon about her wrist before reaching back up to her hair. His offer grabs her attention and she finds herself eyeing him.]

I didn't know you wanted to. You can, if you want. I'm so used to handling it myself or having my mom do so, that it's weird to hear someone else make that kind of offer.

[Aerith probably spends a decent amount of time with her hair, when she's really thinking about it.]

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