[ for all of benedict's anxieties about the farce, he seems to be slipping into the role of a doting boyfriend quite perfectly. the light, lingering touches. the comfortable way he carries himself around kate. it helps, of course, that they're so naturally comfortable with each other already, but this added layer of intimacy is definitely new. strange, in how easy it is.
it's what clouds kate's mind when his hand falls to her thigh, when his thumb rubs a spot there she suddenly realizes is just a little ticklish. their eyes meet, and he smiles that smile and winks that wink and thank god he turns away when he does because the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks would have been far too embarrassing to explain. she looks away quickly, looks to her food, looks around. no one had seen except — she blinks, finding one of the aster boys looking right at her with interest, a knowing smile on his lips. feeling caught, somehow, kate turns her full attention back to her food, ears pink.
after that, the rest of dinner pretty much goes off without a hitch. a few idle questions are thrown her way, their dinnermates curious about her and her life in america, but no one is either rude or prying.
now it was just the two of them again, tucked away in their room, their own little corner of this wild, luxurious world benedict had grown up in. kate had long since changed into a more comfortable set of clothes — an old oversize t-shirt that had the fading words DON'T WORRY, BE NAPPY stamped across it and a pair of running shorts that had definitely seen better days. she's perched on the low stool set in front of the large vanity in the room, directly opposite the foot of the bed, running a hairbrush through her long hair to begin the process of unwinding from a long, long day. ]
All in all I'd say that went over pretty well. I don't think anyone's close to suspecting, anyway.
[ she points her hairbrush towards him, brandishing it like a microphone up towards his mouth and adopting her best news reporter voice, ]
Sources say we make a pretty good team, Mr. Sorellin-Lancaster. What do you have to say to that?
no subject
it's what clouds kate's mind when his hand falls to her thigh, when his thumb rubs a spot there she suddenly realizes is just a little ticklish. their eyes meet, and he smiles that smile and winks that wink and thank god he turns away when he does because the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks would have been far too embarrassing to explain. she looks away quickly, looks to her food, looks around. no one had seen except — she blinks, finding one of the aster boys looking right at her with interest, a knowing smile on his lips. feeling caught, somehow, kate turns her full attention back to her food, ears pink.
after that, the rest of dinner pretty much goes off without a hitch. a few idle questions are thrown her way, their dinnermates curious about her and her life in america, but no one is either rude or prying.
now it was just the two of them again, tucked away in their room, their own little corner of this wild, luxurious world benedict had grown up in. kate had long since changed into a more comfortable set of clothes — an old oversize t-shirt that had the fading words DON'T WORRY, BE NAPPY stamped across it and a pair of running shorts that had definitely seen better days. she's perched on the low stool set in front of the large vanity in the room, directly opposite the foot of the bed, running a hairbrush through her long hair to begin the process of unwinding from a long, long day. ]
All in all I'd say that went over pretty well. I don't think anyone's close to suspecting, anyway.
[ she points her hairbrush towards him, brandishing it like a microphone up towards his mouth and adopting her best news reporter voice, ]
Sources say we make a pretty good team, Mr. Sorellin-Lancaster. What do you have to say to that?