Claire hadn't really known what to make of her note, but she had said she'd be back, so he knew she'd be back. He might have simply gone out to find her, but he wasn't certain where she'd gone, and the fact that she'd gone alone suggested that there might be more to the outing than just buying tools, which they could have done together
( ... )
You see, Chane Laforet had years of indoctrination to grow detached to the human body. Having never experienced real attraction -- well, not up until recently, she often saw it as a collective map: to kill someone instantly, strike here, to render them infertile, strike there, and so on. The quirks of having to witness your Father experiment on bodies for so long, before becoming a personal bodyguard terrorist, she supposed
( ... )
He hadn't done it on purpose, of course. He hadn't known it was Chane at the door, and he had just gotten out of the shower, and so he hadn't had a chance to put any clothes on. It would have been rude to wait, to his mind, and it wasn't as though he had anything to fear.
But he had to admit, privately, that that moment when Chane was caught off guard, and stared at his body for long seconds made all of the waiting worth it again.
Not that it was ever not worth it. But there were times he really thought he might become a teeny bit frustrated by the slow progress any day now.
The flowers came out, and that was even better. He beamed and reached for them. "Wow, for me? That's so sweet, Chane! Let me get something to put them in water." It was always so hot in Santa Destroy, he was sure cut flowers would wilt quickly.
Her mouth almost quivered as it alternated between an anxious frown, and a nervous half-smile. So he liked them? Was it strange that she was a woman and had acquired the roses for him?
Not that there was much time to think about that. He seemed excited by them -- well, Claire generally seemed interested and excited by most things, but still. Her chest felt like it was changing cabin pressure, with the fluttering highs and anchored drops her heart suddenly did.
She followed him inside, knowing that there was no time to waste. She had to make her intentions clear, but...maybe she should ask him to get dressed first.
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She really wished Claire would ...not.
You see, Chane Laforet had years of indoctrination to grow detached to the human body. Having never experienced real attraction -- well, not up until recently, she often saw it as a collective map: to kill someone instantly, strike here, to render them infertile, strike there, and so on. The quirks of having to witness your Father experiment on bodies for so long, before becoming a personal bodyguard terrorist, she supposed ( ... )
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But he had to admit, privately, that that moment when Chane was caught off guard, and stared at his body for long seconds made all of the waiting worth it again.
Not that it was ever not worth it. But there were times he really thought he might become a teeny bit frustrated by the slow progress any day now.
The flowers came out, and that was even better. He beamed and reached for them. "Wow, for me? That's so sweet, Chane! Let me get something to put them in water." It was always so hot in Santa Destroy, he was sure cut flowers would wilt quickly.
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Not that there was much time to think about that. He seemed excited by them -- well, Claire generally seemed interested and excited by most things, but still. Her chest felt like it was changing cabin pressure, with the fluttering highs and anchored drops her heart suddenly did.
She followed him inside, knowing that there was no time to waste. She had to make her intentions clear, but...maybe she should ask him to get dressed first.
Because really.
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