[luckily for her (or perhaps unluckily), ya boy seems to oblivious and immune to awkwardness, and only glances at her heated face for a moment, not in the least suspecting a genre switch so much as he wonders if exposure to the mist is somehow fever-inducing; he squirreled away an nsaid with his belongings earlier in the day, maybe he should — ]
[oh]
Is it? [he just sees it as pragmatism, and he drops the clothing to leave her hand tucked into the fabric, his own pressing against the glass in preparation to exit]
no subject
[oh]
Is it? [he just sees it as pragmatism, and he drops the clothing to leave her hand tucked into the fabric, his own pressing against the glass in preparation to exit]
Then I'll protect you. [obviously.]