[Brows knitting, Kanda watches the way Lavi lifts his own hand, some part of him all too aware of the strange feel of calloused fingers sliding along the back, threading with his own. It's... a surprising sensation.
Pleasant and lazy, warm and lingering.
It's altogether something different from the little invasions that'd begun trading these last few months, this lingering gentleness from hands trained to both direct a pen in coded symphony and pull a trigger.
And then Lavi begins talking, threading a warm tenor into the stillness, a focus to draw his mind away from the contemplation of intimacy... only to tell him something so outlandish, he's almost sure it's made up. Snorting, he pulls their hands back enough to look at the his palm, of the way Lavi's fingers rest above the creases.
A mock frown slides into place as his gaze cuts up to meet that single eye.]
Nicer, huh? Just how much nicer does my palm say I should be?
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Pleasant and lazy, warm and lingering.
It's altogether something different from the little invasions that'd begun trading these last few months, this lingering gentleness from hands trained to both direct a pen in coded symphony and pull a trigger.
And then Lavi begins talking, threading a warm tenor into the stillness, a focus to draw his mind away from the contemplation of intimacy... only to tell him something so outlandish, he's almost sure it's made up. Snorting, he pulls their hands back enough to look at the his palm, of the way Lavi's fingers rest above the creases.
A mock frown slides into place as his gaze cuts up to meet that single eye.]
Nicer, huh? Just how much nicer does my palm say I should be?