[ Always on purpose. Meaning behind his every word and look. The way he runs his fingers through his hair. Brushes his lips against the cool stone of his earring. The turn of his head when he hears his laugh, entranced by the hearty sound. It sparks a fire that has nothing to do with his quirk, spreading to every part of him. The languid look behind those heterochromic eyes, an indulgent smile full of promise that subsumes a promise of more to come. ]
If you're done with dinner.
[ He brushes his cheek with his thumb, entirely absorbed by his presence that looms larger than his slighter frame suggests. ]
no subject
If you're done with dinner.
[ He brushes his cheek with his thumb, entirely absorbed by his presence that looms larger than his slighter frame suggests. ]