[ She shakes her head no, though she keeps a tight hand on him. She's fine, no one's hurt her like she irrationally thought they would, and Ferdinand is still here. ]
No, I... I'm okay. We can go! [ They should get going, even! They had a time table, didn't they, since Ferdinand had to be elsewhere after this, too. ]
[ ... ]
Thank you. I know I don't exactly make things easy.
[Ferdinand does not let go of her hand, either. Wishing he could do more to help encourage her, he squeezes, then glides his thumb over her knuckles.]
You did well, though. Whenever you are ready, we shall continue.
[And whenever that is, they soon resume their journey to Honestea without any more hitches. Ferdinand had wandered past the shop and tea room when it had been closed during his first days, so to be able to enjoy it now and satisfy his curiosity is a treat. Simply coming in and being swept up in the heavenly aromas elevates his mood even higher than it had already been climbing back up again. Business is slow, and so the atmosphere remains quiet and peaceful, which is perfect especially for Bernadetta, he thinks. After taking a quick look at the array of options, an idea strikes Ferdinand.]
We can create custom blends here... Would that not be fun? Crafting one together that we would both really enjoy? I think that maybe something fruity would suit us...
[ She isn't nearly as knowledgeable as Ferdinand is when it comes to tea - is anyone as knowledgeable, really? So Bernie is content to let him have fun peering over all the options, doing her best to listen as he points out different tea leaves and blends.
He suggests doing something together, though, and that makes her cheeks flush. ]
Oh! Um... I think that'd be really nice. It sounds like something to remember this day by. If you don't mind it. [ "First birthday in sex dystopia" doesn't sound like something to celebrate, honestly, but if that's what would make him feel better - and of course, they all needed things to feel better - then... she wouldn't say no to that. ]
At home... the Professor would always get me fruit teas, usually a blend of berries and black tea. Somehow they knew it was my favorite kind? [ She still doesn't know how they know. Maybe the Professor was just really good at guessing and keeping watch. ]
[He doesn't mind it at all! Quite the opposite. That she seems concordant with his idea and appreciates the significance only enhances his smile and his zeal. Mentioning their professor is just the cherry on top.]
Professor always had an almost uncanny knack for understanding our likes and dislikes. [It's almost as if they had all the information available to them at the tips of their fingertips...] Our preferences will harmonize well, considering that I favor both black teas and fruit blends. Oh...! This black tea smells divine. It has a bright and aromatic punch that is not too overpowering. [he interrupts himself in the process of himself opening jars to inspect the myriad offerings. He brings it to Bernadetta for her olfactory perusal and asks for her input.] What do you think?
[ She hums in acknowledgement, happy to hear him talk in detail about something he loved. That's something she could relate to - sometimes it helped just knowing someone would listen as she went on about what she liked without telling her it was all useless prattle.
It's easy, of course, just to listen. But he asks her for her opinion, and that's always sort of terrifying. What if she said the wrong thing? What if it turned out she hated it? What if making a blend with her turned out to be a mistake? What if...
She leans forward, head bowed towards the jar in his hands, fingertips landing just shy of his so she can take a delicate sniff. ]
... Oh! I think I like this, it smells familiar. [ Like something from home! She glances up to smile at Ferdinand, pleasantly surprised. ] I think it'll make a good cup of tea.
[His heart skips a little bit at the glancing near-contact between their fingertips, and for some reason her leaning in toward him with this focused, receptive intention induces a squishy feeling there, too. The intrusive recollection that she could have kissed him recently phases back in, and the heat of the emotion swirls up like sunlight rising off of rocky terrain. For just a fraction of a moment, he's thrown off balance, the suspense of it opening in his expression... but her smile and approval sparkle in him, and his smile in return reflects that.]
As do I! We will use this, then. Now, as for the berries...
[Whew! His composure could have been compromised, there. They spend some time concocting the birthday blend like this, nosing around different ingredients and deciding together which fruit flavors would be tastiest and combine the best. Ferdinand's enthusiasm for the task continues as he chatters about every discovery and how everything impacts his senses, but while he gets carried away, he tries not to dominate the discussion when the whole point is collaborating on what they both really like. Soon enough, they get it blended and brewed, and they stake out the coziest and most private corner for themselves to enjoy it in.]
You cannot believe how tempting it is to burn my mouth on this, [he remarks as he pours the scalding liquid into his saucer.] I am so impatient to try...
[ Berries are a little easier for Bernadetta to navigate, as far as topics of conversation go. They're fruit, they're used in pastry, she likes to cook and dabble in baking, she's familiar with flavors and colors and plants... It means she can keep up with Ferdinand a little easier, and even if he'll always shine the brightest in any room, she doesn't feel quite so blinded like this, when she can chirp in now and then. It really does feel like a collaboration, and she hopes they come up with something that they can both think about fondly.
The moment of truth awaits as they sit together with their new tea. She takes care to sit across, instead of next to him like she did the last time they saw each other. But the table is small, so their knees still brush a little up against each other underneath if they're not careful (and Bernie tries to be careful. She does! He can't get the wrong idea of her again. But... it's a small table.) ]
It's hard to wait! But it's harder to have a burn on your lip, or tongue. [ She gives him a funny look, holding an empty cup of her own. ] I'm not even sure how you'd treat that. I'm not very good at waiting, but I think I'm worse at, um, first aid and things like that.
[Why is she looking at him like that? He didn't say anything strange, did he? Ferdinand tips the spout over Bernadetta's empty cup to fill it up just right, contemplating the minor pain and ignominy of a burnt mouth (which he is no stranger to) to start, and then administering first aid to such an area. Prone to getting carried away by thoughts as he is, of course, leads to him picturing what he might do if Bernadetta really burnt herself on tea: practically, at first, but then... whimsically.
If only it could be kissed better! he reins in with force. It's Ferdinand's turn to give a bit of a funny look, though it has nothing to do with anything that Bernadetta is doing, and it amounts to a kind of goofy, self-conscious smile. He sets the teapot back down between them and scrambles for a better response that won't totally implicate him in contemplating his lips upon hers... (again!). What if he sends her running again! That would be the worst...]
You are completely right. Though, if anything, my occasional spells of this particular impatient indiscretion have at least taught me that pressing a cool cloth between my lips helps it to feel better. Then, of course, a salve can be applied to encourage healing. The rest is simply time's course.
I can't imagine it. [ Bernie giggles a little, one hand rising immediately to hide her smile. Ferdinand being enthusiastic over tea is one thing - that happens regularly! - but having to treat injured lips is another. Their thoughts accidentally align on that, unknowingly, as she thinks - it's probably easier to kiss it better, but... She's been down that road of thoughts before! It hadn't led anywhere nice. ]
I mean... you know. I bet salves taste and feel gross, and unpleasant. I doubt it'd be nice to have that on your lips.
[ You know what would be nice though?-- no, no. Can't think of that!! Her ears burn and she looks quickly down at her tea, lifting it up so she can purse her lips to blow on it gently. ]
Some of them are not so offensive. [He lifts his cup in his hands, letting the steam of it waft closer to his face.] There is this plant that comes from the arid regions of Almyra that is quite a pleasant component, of one I have used, actually. But it still tingles...
[And his mind still incessantly hovers, unknowingly in tandem with Bernadetta's, around a certain activity that can be shared lip on lip. One that no doubt must tingle quite sensuously, but... he wouldn't know. He has yet to. And... it's probably a matter of time, at this point.
Goodness! Getting a bit restless, he shifts his leg to bring it closer to the table, but their ankles brush and such simple glancing contact electrifies him like lightning. He tightens his grip on his saucer.]
Oh! I think I know that - it's the sort that feels nice and cool, doesn't it? It comes from this really cute and interesting little plant that has spines all over to protect itself because...
[ She looks all set to launch into another excited, unwarranted dump of information on him. One he really didn't ask for, and the thought washes over her quite suddenly. ]
Oh, Bernie, you have to get ahold of yourself. It's his birthday!
[Goddess save him... Are there aphrodisiacs laced in the tea...? Oh, but he hasn't even gotten around to trying it, yet!
(The secret is that Bernadetta's words are the aphros. She is casting a spell on him!)]
Well! My lips feel even better when they are not hurt. Hahaha...!
[What... What is he saying? Ferdinand's smile at her gets even screwier, and just to assuage his nerves he levels the teacup's rim close to his lips, the brew still a tad too hot for proper enjoyment of it.
It's as though the tension that had risen between them during their last meal together was being revived. Should he do something about it? Or would it be a total faux pas? Is she thinking about the same thing he is, or is he pathetically alone in this?]
Bernadetta... [He lowers his cup back down to the saucer and leans forward on his folded arm, which closes some distance. Is this going to be a bad time? He had already proclaimed his desire to her... loudly, and down the stairs. It is not as if she isn't aware, wouldn't be contemplating the same thing after all of that. He still finds himself unable to ask outright at the moment, so he aims somewhere less vulnerable, voice softening.] Allow me to brace you: I am going to ask you something a little bit... impertinent. On the matter of lips, now that we keep talking about them and I keep thinking about them. Have you ever... kissed anyone before?
[Now that she has been in Duplicity and gotten contracted, it's a question that's more worth asking. Before all of this, it would have been much easier to just assume that she had not. She had always struggled with her social life, the act of holding a simple conversation a challenge he would never truly know how to relate to, even though he tried desperately to empathize. How has this place... changed her, so far?]
[ If given the choice, Bernie would simply stare down at her cup and at her knees through this whole thing, if possible. But of course, manners demanded otherwise - she was raised better than this, she knew, she could hear the echoes of her own father telling her to sit up, to remain poised and composed and attentive - so she swallows hard and looks up.
Ferdinand was asking difficult questions, but he wasn't asking them out of nowhere. She didn't know where her own thoughts were coming from, either, and... oh, her eyes keep flicking down to his lips and she has to keep looking elsewhere. ]
It's... Maybe. Yes. Here, of course, and... [ She glances up at him again, turning red as she admits something she hasn't said to anyone from home...
Well, no, she told Annette, before she left. If she could tell her, she could probably tell Ferdinand. Right? ] And maybe once or twice, when it got lonely, at home.
[ She twists the fabric of her sweater nervously. It's weird, it feels like admitting to something terribly shameful. Something she shouldn't have done, because if she wasn't unmarriageable before, she certainly is now. ]
I'm sorry, I... I think I should have said so earlier! You probably think I'm no good now.
[Surprise dawns abruptly on his features as she admits this about herself. So he had assumed absolutely wrong...]
What? No, I think nothing of the sort about you! And something like this is nothing for you to feel obligated to tell me. It is not as though I am your... your lover, or your future husband, or — anything of that nature to you!
[Why does that kind of sting to say right now? It isn't as though he really feels as though she owes him that kind of information, after all. She is a dear friend, of course, but even dear friends need not tell each other every last private detail about their lives. He had been very content the way that their lives had panned out in actuality, as classmates deepening a bond, as soldiers defending each other and the Emperor and her ideals for a new Adrestria, a new Fodlan. Who knows how fraught they could have been tangled in the marital politics of their parents?
And she was his... betrothed, once upon a time. When he did not want it, was too young to truly want it even though he knew it to be his duty as the next prime minister of the proud Adrestian Empire.
He empties a sigh, as if to deflate some of the impact of this upon him.]
And you are not obligated to tell me who you had kissed, either. Nonetheless, I admit that a certain curiosity burns me now...
[ It does sting, but it's more like the dulled edge of an arrowhead pressing into her side or something. There's nothing painful about how he says it, nothing life-threatening that'll make her run away and hide again but - it shouldn't hurt at all, should it? That they've become friends at all is a miracle, she never thought she'd make friends after her father had her first friend beaten up for daring to come close. But she had friends now, and they all looked out for her, and didn't care too much when she got in her own head. It's too much to hope for anything more from them, probably? She shouldn't be so selfish.
She's uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, fiddling with the stitches of her sweater's hem, as she tries to put her thoughts into order. She's sorry anyway, she feels like she's let him down for some reason, and this is why she tries to keep her distance from him and from Hubert. It feels safer that they not know what she's up to, so she has to agree with his assessment. She's not obligated to tell him anything about that -- so she won't. ]
If... you don't want to know about that, then... what are you curious about?
Well... [Instead of looking directly at her, he watches the steam unfurl from his cup, sorting through different faces from their past.] That... is actually what I am so insatiably curious about right now. Who you might have kissed...
[ She blows a puff of air out and sinks back into her chair. Why's he so curious, anyway? Did it matter? ]
Annette kissed me when we... In that place, with all the testing... [ Last month, with all the experiments. Then she didn't see her again. ]
Um, Yuri did at home too, when things were lonely and dark, during the march to Gronder. [ She could have died there! Everyone wanted the hill she was stationed on, and... she could have died, and the war would have just gone on. ]
Dorothea said I ought to know how it feels, just once, so she did - but that was when we were all still in the academy.
[Ferdinand's eyebrows rise in crushed sympathy when she brings up Annette and the experiments, a double hit to his heart. He should be more relieved that Annette no longer needs to endure this program in this city with them, but it was a comfort to have her. And the experiments that Hubert spoke of, which had also happened to Bernadetta... A rash of resentment toward LIEs runs across his heart, for taking his friends and violating them in such ways.
And then, Yuri... How strange. They had been growing closer, from his own limited perspective, in the sense that Bernadetta would no longer avoid him so much in particular... but it seemed like the passion had been evoked from the comparative despairs brought on by war, poignant and bittersweet. Of course, his focus had been on guarding the frontlines, on the heat of battle, far away from Bernadetta's post. Still, that surprises him as well. And when she admits what Dorothea had done to her, he can't help it: heat rushes to his face, and he can't rightly figure out who he is more jealous of...
A soft, short, and incredulous laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head at himself and lifts the cup back up.]
Why, I had no idea... [He partakes in his first delicate sip, in part to quell his nerves.] To think, someone so prone to seclusion would share in such kisses before I, Ferdinand von Aegir, could even have just one...
[ In all honesty, Bernadetta didn't understand it either. She craved seclusion and solitude, but people kept turning up at her door or her tent or at her table anyway, wanting to chat or wanting to spend time for one thing or another. Why was it so difficult to maintain her time alone, as she'd once told Ferdinand? Maybe it's because she ties with two other characters for Most Support Chains In The Game.
She frowns a little when he seems to imply that not having one meant... something. ]
It's... it isn't bad, I don't think. If you've never had one. I don't know if I even wanted--... it was just really scary to think about. At first. [ Even with Annette, she'd been very cautious and careful. She thought she'd die from how hard her heart been beating - but once that threshold had been crossed... Here she is, living how Duplicity dictated she ought to live her life. ]
Are... you hoping for one from someone? [ She looks up at him curiously. ] Is that why, last time, when... [ ... ] Um. Never mind. I probably shouldn't ask. Sorry.
I was, Bernadetta. At the time, I was hoping for a kiss from you.
[He's quiet as he says this, uncharacteristically so, though there is not a trace of doubt. As if he has grown shy about it, yet still manages enough boldness to utter such feelings into being. There is also some vulnerability caving into his expression, the apology from before, some wistfulness, and a dash of the hope he so describes, lingering now into the present.]
It was just happening so fast, and I knew that we were not in our right minds. I did not want there to be any regrets between us, or ruin our friendship. I did not want to take advantage of you and the moment. [His cup hovers so close to his face, as if it could hide it.] But long after we parted since then, and the gaseous effects had dissipated, a rather ignoble part of me kept wishing that I had... practiced indiscretion instead.
Why? [ Her eyes look doubtful, maybe a little concerned. She had a different view - she knew that if it weren't for things like the odd gas, the things they put in certain food or drink or elixir here... she'd never be able to get close to anyone.
At least, if they'd kissed last time, they'd have something to blame. And now - well... ]
You... don't have a reason to want it from me anymore.
Then... if that is the case, why do I still want to?
[Is he overstepping? Should he just shut his big mouth and stop going on and on about kissing? He's already walking himself into a corner, here, being arguably too nosy about who she has kissed, bringing up feelings he has about kissing her when maybe she has moved far past that, possibly finds the idea unpalatable, uncomfortable, but isn't outright telling him so. He gazes at her like she has the power to squash his heart with just a word, and continues, perhaps, making it worse for himself by being his earnest self.]
There is no gas. Nothing suggestible in our tea. [He presses his palm to his heart.] Just... me, looking at you, butterflies in my chest at the thought of getting the chance to seal your lips with a kiss, too... Ah... am I saying too much?
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No, I... I'm okay. We can go! [ They should get going, even! They had a time table, didn't they, since Ferdinand had to be elsewhere after this, too. ]
[ ... ]
Thank you. I know I don't exactly make things easy.
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You did well, though. Whenever you are ready, we shall continue.
[And whenever that is, they soon resume their journey to Honestea without any more hitches. Ferdinand had wandered past the shop and tea room when it had been closed during his first days, so to be able to enjoy it now and satisfy his curiosity is a treat. Simply coming in and being swept up in the heavenly aromas elevates his mood even higher than it had already been climbing back up again. Business is slow, and so the atmosphere remains quiet and peaceful, which is perfect especially for Bernadetta, he thinks. After taking a quick look at the array of options, an idea strikes Ferdinand.]
We can create custom blends here... Would that not be fun? Crafting one together that we would both really enjoy? I think that maybe something fruity would suit us...
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He suggests doing something together, though, and that makes her cheeks flush. ]
Oh! Um... I think that'd be really nice. It sounds like something to remember this day by. If you don't mind it. [ "First birthday in sex dystopia" doesn't sound like something to celebrate, honestly, but if that's what would make him feel better - and of course, they all needed things to feel better - then... she wouldn't say no to that. ]
At home... the Professor would always get me fruit teas, usually a blend of berries and black tea. Somehow they knew it was my favorite kind? [ She still doesn't know how they know. Maybe the Professor was just really good at guessing and keeping watch. ]
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Professor always had an almost uncanny knack for understanding our likes and dislikes. [It's almost as if they had all the information available to them at the tips of their fingertips...] Our preferences will harmonize well, considering that I favor both black teas and fruit blends. Oh...! This black tea smells divine. It has a bright and aromatic punch that is not too overpowering. [he interrupts himself in the process of himself opening jars to inspect the myriad offerings. He brings it to Bernadetta for her olfactory perusal and asks for her input.] What do you think?
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It's easy, of course, just to listen. But he asks her for her opinion, and that's always sort of terrifying. What if she said the wrong thing? What if it turned out she hated it? What if making a blend with her turned out to be a mistake? What if...
She leans forward, head bowed towards the jar in his hands, fingertips landing just shy of his so she can take a delicate sniff. ]
... Oh! I think I like this, it smells familiar. [ Like something from home! She glances up to smile at Ferdinand, pleasantly surprised. ] I think it'll make a good cup of tea.
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As do I! We will use this, then. Now, as for the berries...
[Whew! His composure could have been compromised, there. They spend some time concocting the birthday blend like this, nosing around different ingredients and deciding together which fruit flavors would be tastiest and combine the best. Ferdinand's enthusiasm for the task continues as he chatters about every discovery and how everything impacts his senses, but while he gets carried away, he tries not to dominate the discussion when the whole point is collaborating on what they both really like. Soon enough, they get it blended and brewed, and they stake out the coziest and most private corner for themselves to enjoy it in.]
You cannot believe how tempting it is to burn my mouth on this, [he remarks as he pours the scalding liquid into his saucer.] I am so impatient to try...
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The moment of truth awaits as they sit together with their new tea. She takes care to sit across, instead of next to him like she did the last time they saw each other. But the table is small, so their knees still brush a little up against each other underneath if they're not careful (and Bernie tries to be careful. She does! He can't get the wrong idea of her again. But... it's a small table.) ]
It's hard to wait! But it's harder to have a burn on your lip, or tongue. [ She gives him a funny look, holding an empty cup of her own. ] I'm not even sure how you'd treat that. I'm not very good at waiting, but I think I'm worse at, um, first aid and things like that.
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If only it could be kissed better! he reins in with force. It's Ferdinand's turn to give a bit of a funny look, though it has nothing to do with anything that Bernadetta is doing, and it amounts to a kind of goofy, self-conscious smile. He sets the teapot back down between them and scrambles for a better response that won't totally implicate him in contemplating his lips upon hers... (again!). What if he sends her running again! That would be the worst...]
You are completely right. Though, if anything, my occasional spells of this particular impatient indiscretion have at least taught me that pressing a cool cloth between my lips helps it to feel better. Then, of course, a salve can be applied to encourage healing. The rest is simply time's course.
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I mean... you know. I bet salves taste and feel gross, and unpleasant. I doubt it'd be nice to have that on your lips.
[ You know what would be nice though?-- no, no. Can't think of that!! Her ears burn and she looks quickly down at her tea, lifting it up so she can purse her lips to blow on it gently. ]
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[And his mind still incessantly hovers, unknowingly in tandem with Bernadetta's, around a certain activity that can be shared lip on lip. One that no doubt must tingle quite sensuously, but... he wouldn't know. He has yet to. And... it's probably a matter of time, at this point.
Goodness! Getting a bit restless, he shifts his leg to bring it closer to the table, but their ankles brush and such simple glancing contact electrifies him like lightning. He tightens his grip on his saucer.]
1/2
[ She looks all set to launch into another excited, unwarranted dump of information on him. One he really didn't ask for, and the thought washes over her quite suddenly. ]
Oh, Bernie, you have to get ahold of yourself. It's his birthday!
2/2
I mean... Um. I... bet they do feel good. Your lips. Or-- or on your lips, rather, actually, if they were hurt, or... or something like that.
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(The secret is that Bernadetta's words are the aphros. She is casting a spell on him!)]
Well! My lips feel even better when they are not hurt. Hahaha...!
[What... What is he saying? Ferdinand's smile at her gets even screwier, and just to assuage his nerves he levels the teacup's rim close to his lips, the brew still a tad too hot for proper enjoyment of it.
It's as though the tension that had risen between them during their last meal together was being revived. Should he do something about it? Or would it be a total faux pas? Is she thinking about the same thing he is, or is he pathetically alone in this?]
Bernadetta... [He lowers his cup back down to the saucer and leans forward on his folded arm, which closes some distance. Is this going to be a bad time? He had already proclaimed his desire to her... loudly, and down the stairs. It is not as if she isn't aware, wouldn't be contemplating the same thing after all of that. He still finds himself unable to ask outright at the moment, so he aims somewhere less vulnerable, voice softening.] Allow me to brace you: I am going to ask you something a little bit... impertinent. On the matter of lips, now that we keep talking about them and I keep thinking about them. Have you ever... kissed anyone before?
[Now that she has been in Duplicity and gotten contracted, it's a question that's more worth asking. Before all of this, it would have been much easier to just assume that she had not. She had always struggled with her social life, the act of holding a simple conversation a challenge he would never truly know how to relate to, even though he tried desperately to empathize. How has this place... changed her, so far?]
it's time for some ✨headcanon✨
Ferdinand was asking difficult questions, but he wasn't asking them out of nowhere. She didn't know where her own thoughts were coming from, either, and... oh, her eyes keep flicking down to his lips and she has to keep looking elsewhere. ]
It's... Maybe. Yes. Here, of course, and... [ She glances up at him again, turning red as she admits something she hasn't said to anyone from home...
Well, no, she told Annette, before she left. If she could tell her, she could probably tell Ferdinand. Right? ] And maybe once or twice, when it got lonely, at home.
[ She twists the fabric of her sweater nervously. It's weird, it feels like admitting to something terribly shameful. Something she shouldn't have done, because if she wasn't unmarriageable before, she certainly is now. ]
I'm sorry, I... I think I should have said so earlier! You probably think I'm no good now.
👀!!!
What? No, I think nothing of the sort about you! And something like this is nothing for you to feel obligated to tell me. It is not as though I am your... your lover, or your future husband, or — anything of that nature to you!
[Why does that kind of sting to say right now? It isn't as though he really feels as though she owes him that kind of information, after all. She is a dear friend, of course, but even dear friends need not tell each other every last private detail about their lives. He had been very content the way that their lives had panned out in actuality, as classmates deepening a bond, as soldiers defending each other and the Emperor and her ideals for a new Adrestria, a new Fodlan. Who knows how fraught they could have been tangled in the marital politics of their parents?
And she was his... betrothed, once upon a time. When he did not want it, was too young to truly want it even though he knew it to be his duty as the next prime minister of the proud Adrestian Empire.
He empties a sigh, as if to deflate some of the impact of this upon him.]
And you are not obligated to tell me who you had kissed, either. Nonetheless, I admit that a certain curiosity burns me now...
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She's uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, fiddling with the stitches of her sweater's hem, as she tries to put her thoughts into order. She's sorry anyway, she feels like she's let him down for some reason, and this is why she tries to keep her distance from him and from Hubert. It feels safer that they not know what she's up to, so she has to agree with his assessment. She's not obligated to tell him anything about that -- so she won't. ]
If... you don't want to know about that, then... what are you curious about?
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You mean... here? In this city?
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I am more curious about people I might know...
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Annette kissed me when we... In that place, with all the testing... [ Last month, with all the experiments. Then she didn't see her again. ]
Um, Yuri did at home too, when things were lonely and dark, during the march to Gronder. [ She could have died there! Everyone wanted the hill she was stationed on, and... she could have died, and the war would have just gone on. ]
Dorothea said I ought to know how it feels, just once, so she did - but that was when we were all still in the academy.
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And then, Yuri... How strange. They had been growing closer, from his own limited perspective, in the sense that Bernadetta would no longer avoid him so much in particular... but it seemed like the passion had been evoked from the comparative despairs brought on by war, poignant and bittersweet. Of course, his focus had been on guarding the frontlines, on the heat of battle, far away from Bernadetta's post. Still, that surprises him as well. And when she admits what Dorothea had done to her, he can't help it: heat rushes to his face, and he can't rightly figure out who he is more jealous of...
A soft, short, and incredulous laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head at himself and lifts the cup back up.]
Why, I had no idea... [He partakes in his first delicate sip, in part to quell his nerves.] To think, someone so prone to seclusion would share in such kisses before I, Ferdinand von Aegir, could even have just one...
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Maybe it's because she ties with two other characters for Most Support Chains In The Game.She frowns a little when he seems to imply that not having one meant... something. ]
It's... it isn't bad, I don't think. If you've never had one. I don't know if I even wanted--... it was just really scary to think about. At first. [ Even with Annette, she'd been very cautious and careful. She thought she'd die from how hard her heart been beating - but once that threshold had been crossed... Here she is, living how Duplicity dictated she ought to live her life. ]
Are... you hoping for one from someone? [ She looks up at him curiously. ] Is that why, last time, when... [ ... ] Um. Never mind. I probably shouldn't ask. Sorry.
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[He's quiet as he says this, uncharacteristically so, though there is not a trace of doubt. As if he has grown shy about it, yet still manages enough boldness to utter such feelings into being. There is also some vulnerability caving into his expression, the apology from before, some wistfulness, and a dash of the hope he so describes, lingering now into the present.]
It was just happening so fast, and I knew that we were not in our right minds. I did not want there to be any regrets between us, or ruin our friendship. I did not want to take advantage of you and the moment. [His cup hovers so close to his face, as if it could hide it.] But long after we parted since then, and the gaseous effects had dissipated, a rather ignoble part of me kept wishing that I had... practiced indiscretion instead.
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At least, if they'd kissed last time, they'd have something to blame. And now - well... ]
You... don't have a reason to want it from me anymore.
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[Is he overstepping? Should he just shut his big mouth and stop going on and on about kissing? He's already walking himself into a corner, here, being arguably too nosy about who she has kissed, bringing up feelings he has about kissing her when maybe she has moved far past that, possibly finds the idea unpalatable, uncomfortable, but isn't outright telling him so. He gazes at her like she has the power to squash his heart with just a word, and continues, perhaps, making it worse for himself by being his earnest self.]
There is no gas. Nothing suggestible in our tea. [He presses his palm to his heart.] Just... me, looking at you, butterflies in my chest at the thought of getting the chance to seal your lips with a kiss, too... Ah... am I saying too much?
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