( it's a little blunt—but she can't exactly disagree. it's why they've been able to toe against one another so fluently, why that first evening they'd run into one another in sucker punch created that rush of familiarity in the first place—why others assured the way they compliment each other all the further. in reality, she knows little about the man who's fit himself at her side and matched her strides, but it doesn't change the fact that their mentality seems cut from the same cloth, even if veritably different pasts. )

Not allowed. ( a click of her tongue, playfully, as if down to a child. ) Don't sound so pouty, amor. It doesn't suit you.

( a glance toward him, again, hues trailing down along his features from eyes to mouth, before gaze is set forward once more to a street that appears endless with the blanket of rain misting it's depths. ) It isn't as if you're deprived. I'm sure many women in Cadelle wouldn't mind helping you sort out that distraction just fine.