[ When she pulls him closer, the elctricity seems to run up Cloud's body, the way her own desperation breaks free fueling the fire. And when she pulls away, he's loathe to leave her - his hands trailing across her hips, fingertips like a ghost. He looks into her eyes, feels the phantom sensation of her lips on his, of their bodies so close they could each tell where fabric ended and flesh began. He tries to recenter himself - a move do the failure. He's never been half as composed as Aerith. ]

[ As they pull away, the spell holding Cloud's attention entirely on Aerith has snapped - for the moment. The lingering hunger remains, his eyes looking back at her as he once again regains his surroundings, as if he had been looking at them for the first time - his hand finds his breast, and the nonstromp thrumming that has yet to settle. ]

I- uh- [ He processes quickly what that's supposed to mean, but taken out of their own little private world and put back in this one, he stumbles. Only briefly. ] Probably yours, I- the walls- they-

[ They'll hear us, is the thought Cloud unsuccessfully attempts to convey. Realizing now that there is no privacy between them, a kiss shared in the kight of the festival. There's no way people won't talk, of course - but Cloud's more sudden awareness means he'd rather be cautious with those next steps, seemingly dancing on the edge of a collapsing cliffside. ]