[ Six's mask is pulled from his face without any fanfare.
Truthfully, to Aerith's eyes, it's nearly an extension of him. A limb, in some manner of speaking, and she simply reaches up and plucks it from his face. His eyes are as beautiful as she remembers, she thinks, the pink-purple tint to them like jewels she's only ever seen in pictures. There's a fine chisel to his cheekbones, but nothing that ages him. She had half-expected an injury beneath the mask, or something else, but hindsight flips in her mind. It's a mask not unlike the helmet that the public forces wear, she supposes.
Curiosity strikes. She moves to place the mask on her face, the idea wholly adventurous to her. She's never worn something like this before, and besides, would Six really mind? His high-pitched plea for mercy stops Aerith, who looks at him with knitted brows and a pout. As far as she's concerned, this was an important thing to do!
Part of her wishes, however, that she had waited. Maybe it should feel more... special? ]
Oh, quit being a baby! [ It's left on the counter. It'll stay there. She is watching him, the same way a hawk watches a fish. ] I'm not taking it away from you for no reason. You need to be able to breathe. So?
[ She waits for a moment, as if expecting something from him. In truth, she's drinking in the sight of his bare face: Aerith makes a note to herself. He's handsome, but not in the rugged sort of way she had come to expect from the dime-a-dozen SOLDIERs. It's that fresh-faced manner she knows from the ones she knows; Cloud, and Zack come to mind. Embarrassment suddenly crawls up the nape of her neck, flushing her all the way to her ears, and she turns away to busy herself with fetching the futon for him. Hopefully he doesn't mind sleeping in a bed that smells like soap and soil. ]
Something is on your mind. I can tell. [ Standing and facing him, Aerith offers him a smile. She hopes it's comforting. She can't see it in his expression, twisted with shyness and who-knows-what, but she felt it. His touch, his voice... Occupied with something else, distance had emerged between them, somehow. She's not one for it. ]
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Truthfully, to Aerith's eyes, it's nearly an extension of him. A limb, in some manner of speaking, and she simply reaches up and plucks it from his face. His eyes are as beautiful as she remembers, she thinks, the pink-purple tint to them like jewels she's only ever seen in pictures. There's a fine chisel to his cheekbones, but nothing that ages him. She had half-expected an injury beneath the mask, or something else, but hindsight flips in her mind. It's a mask not unlike the helmet that the public forces wear, she supposes.
Curiosity strikes. She moves to place the mask on her face, the idea wholly adventurous to her. She's never worn something like this before, and besides, would Six really mind? His high-pitched plea for mercy stops Aerith, who looks at him with knitted brows and a pout. As far as she's concerned, this was an important thing to do!
Part of her wishes, however, that she had waited. Maybe it should feel more... special? ]
Oh, quit being a baby! [ It's left on the counter. It'll stay there. She is watching him, the same way a hawk watches a fish. ] I'm not taking it away from you for no reason. You need to be able to breathe. So?
[ She waits for a moment, as if expecting something from him. In truth, she's drinking in the sight of his bare face: Aerith makes a note to herself. He's handsome, but not in the rugged sort of way she had come to expect from the dime-a-dozen SOLDIERs. It's that fresh-faced manner she knows from the ones she knows; Cloud, and Zack come to mind. Embarrassment suddenly crawls up the nape of her neck, flushing her all the way to her ears, and she turns away to busy herself with fetching the futon for him. Hopefully he doesn't mind sleeping in a bed that smells like soap and soil. ]
Something is on your mind. I can tell. [ Standing and facing him, Aerith offers him a smile. She hopes it's comforting. She can't see it in his expression, twisted with shyness and who-knows-what, but she felt it. His touch, his voice... Occupied with something else, distance had emerged between them, somehow. She's not one for it. ]
Spill it, Six.