Yaris 79, 2717 - Evening
What was wrong with her? This was fun, sure, but she kept having to remind herself that it shouldn't be, and that it was just this one time. He wasn't behind the bar now, so she'd have to see him again for that. He hadn't finished the second book, so if she wanted to know what he thought of it she'd have to seek him out again. No matter how nice he was to look at, she should have taken her hand away. Should have moved her foot, shouldn't have come here at all. Maybe she just liked that he didn't know who she was, and likely had never heard of Incumbent Vauquelin in his life. She tried to convince herself of that, and it rang hollow.
It was just that the voice in her head telling her these things sounded more like her father's deep politician's tones or Diana's polished smoothness than it sounded like her own. When she tried to find her own voice, her own feelings on the matter, she found only a warm electric thrill and something else that was too unusual for her to even have a name for it. Hopeless, just like everyone always told her. That wasn't so bad, right now.
The comment about Brunnhold girls and what they did and did not do was a joke, and she couldn't help but grin at the response, happy to amuse. Really "idea" made it sound like she put more thought into it than she ever did, but the way he didn't seem in the least put off was strangely gratifying. The training is the dueling, she wanted to say, and that was to keep me from the fist fights, not enhance them. But she didn't know if he knew what the dueling team even was, or that he would have cared if she explained, so she kept that to herself and drifted back to vocabulary.
That contrary little thrill, that thing she couldn't or wouldn't put a name to? That was rewarded when he laughed again, put something bold in her blood she was probably better off without. The way she moved her foot in closer wasn't an answer to a challenge, but a challenge itself. Because she didn't know what the boundaries of this thing was, she decided to test them, curious and a little too unconcerned. Some part of her knew she would never have done something so forward with another green-uniformed Brunnhold boy; she would never have talked to them about Fahren or joked about getting into fights, either. There were a lot of things happening here she "would never".
If he didn't want her to, he would pull back. Wouldn't he? Cerise couldn't imagine that he wouldn't; he didn't seem shy about much else. His eyebrow rose, but he didn't shift away from her. So that was good then. She was fairly certain. She had leaned back in her chair like this was nothing to her, smiling and maybe taunting just a little, but her heart was in her throat. She hadn't even touched the beer in front of her yet.
Which, clearly, Emiel had noticed as well. Delaying it any further would just look like she was afraid, she thought, or... She didn't know, it just felt like a challenge. Cerise looked at the stout with only a little suspicion, not quite sure what it was he thought to choose for her. Sure, he did this every day, but not for her. Even overly-confident young men with nice hair could be wrong. She took a cautious sip while he answered her, looking back to his notes. Followed by a proper one, because she was pleasantly surprised that she liked it after all. Not that she would give him the satisfaction, she thought, of announcing such without being asked.
"Whatever you want," she offered. Curious. If it wasn't about the book, what else could he possibly want to know? Cerise wasn't even sure why he'd asked her here, not really. Considering how they'd first met, she was having trouble really believing it was for more time in her company.
That little "ent s'posed to" dug at her, although she didn't know why. She had nothing to do with that, and clearly he could anyway, so did it really matter? Sure, she had made assumptions at the Stack Exchange. But she'd already--well, not quite apologized, but admitted her error. There was just something about the way he said it, like he thought she'd make nothing of it at all, that bothered her.
Cerise had almost thought--it didn't matter what she'd thought he was going to ask about, because it was a question about magic. She had leaned in when he dropped his voice, far too close for anything approaching propriety now. From her new nearer vantage point, she studied his face while he asked. Not just to take note of each and every pleasing feature on it, but to weigh her answer. It was one thing to talk about fiction, she thought, which was strange but not explicitly disallowed. This seemed edging to something else, while still staying on the side of legal. Cerise wondered what made him ask, and if he really thought she would answer.
"More or less," she said after a pause. Clearly, she had made her decision. It wasn't illegal to answer such a simple question, anyway. She smiled, her voice just as quiet. "Holding hands is optional, but helpful--depending on what you're trying to do." Cerise had a little more of her stout, still looking at him, still too close. Then, after another moment of hesitation, "You do?"