An impediment? No. A lingering distraction that seemed to leave an impression on him as if she'd dug those nails in and left marks that almost made him want to abandon dinner altogether just to see what further damage she could do? Oh, most undeniably. But even with that deep desire thrumming inside of him, once he did actually get around to arranging the proteins within the dish to now join the medley of flavors building as he worked, his attention shifted more towards that, and the drift of her fingers became more of just a welcomed soothing comfort, a reassurance that he was quite content in enjoying as he worked on the next thing.
And just as he was finishing and thinking about how to continue filling the time between waiting, her voice reached him, dark and rich like Ebony for his ears, with that inquisitive lilt that made the fond smile on his face now impossible to avoid.
And it was a good question, too, a difficult one, because of course his inclination was to want to find something particularly good or interesting, what what was there in that category that she didn't already know? That she hadn't already discovered? He felt he'd always been a fairly open book for her; it was just that the prose was rather simple. Straightforward. Purposeful. Hardly any deep trenches of poetry with layers of meaning with each dig. But that did make him think, with another soft huff, of at least a good way to buy himself a little more time while he tried to think.
It would also come with a glass of wine, now opened and poured with the first glass handed out to Liliana after he'd set everything for the last leg of its cooking journey.
"Why?" he asked, smirking now with his offering and a lift of his good brow. "So you can use it against me later? I mention a passing fondness for blueberries, and the next thing I know, my voicemail is inundated with prose that makes it impossible for me to taste one again without thinking of you."
no subject
And just as he was finishing and thinking about how to continue filling the time between waiting, her voice reached him, dark and rich like Ebony for his ears, with that inquisitive lilt that made the fond smile on his face now impossible to avoid.
And it was a good question, too, a difficult one, because of course his inclination was to want to find something particularly good or interesting, what what was there in that category that she didn't already know? That she hadn't already discovered? He felt he'd always been a fairly open book for her; it was just that the prose was rather simple. Straightforward. Purposeful. Hardly any deep trenches of poetry with layers of meaning with each dig. But that did make him think, with another soft huff, of at least a good way to buy himself a little more time while he tried to think.
It would also come with a glass of wine, now opened and poured with the first glass handed out to Liliana after he'd set everything for the last leg of its cooking journey.
"Why?" he asked, smirking now with his offering and a lift of his good brow. "So you can use it against me later? I mention a passing fondness for blueberries, and the next thing I know, my voicemail is inundated with prose that makes it impossible for me to taste one again without thinking of you."