[The world shifts, blurs, leaves him with a sick sense of vertigo even as the bright white edges sharpen up again around her elongating steps, the room seeming closer, colder somehow. There's a tightness in his chest as he watches her transform from something small and smirking into something more mature, more composed. More full of terrible cold calculation and a concealed violence he can almost feel.
He wants to step back, to move away, but he forces himself to do no such thing, to stand his ground with feet firmly planted and the loose stance of battle right there in him for all that he keeps his gaze subserviently lowered. He may not look into her face, but his body is a hard and waiting thing.
Head down, blond hair tipping forward to obscure the red sparks of his eyes but his mouth, it twists into something that vaguely approximates a smile.]
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He wants to step back, to move away, but he forces himself to do no such thing, to stand his ground with feet firmly planted and the loose stance of battle right there in him for all that he keeps his gaze subserviently lowered. He may not look into her face, but his body is a hard and waiting thing.
Head down, blond hair tipping forward to obscure the red sparks of his eyes but his mouth, it twists into something that vaguely approximates a smile.]
Maybe so. But you didn't.