[ When he feels her pull on his collar, he thinks it's just that she's terrified and and doesn't want him to leave. ]

Don't be afraid. I'll—mmph!

[ The last thing his sorry brain thinks, before the moonlacing effect renders it inoperable, is a sort of petulant whine: I'd only just pulled myself together!

That thought is instantly forgotten, as he tastes her lips, inhales the scent of the battlefield she'd just escaped from, admires her bravery and aplomb. A fellow soldier perhaps, two kindred souls drawn together across worlds and heavens. Does she, like him, long for a quiet life? Does she, like him, know that's a fantasy?

After their lips part, now he is the one who can't bear to be separated. He presses tender kisses against the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her temple, finally letting his forehead rest against hers.

Panting softly, he murmurs: ]

Moonlacing. The effect is... it can make you do things you might not, otherwise.

[ Too delirious to recall what happened last time he tried this, he reaches for her hand with his calloused fingers, to fold them in his own. ]

Do take care, Miss Hazuki.