Something in the way that she looks down at him, cataloging him with a fond care that he's seldom seen directed his way since the memory of being pulled close by his mother, puts him at a soul-deep ease, complete comfort, blocking his consideration for the rest of the world out. It might seem empty and cliche to him in the light of afternoon, the context of a different place, but for now, Rukia's the only one in the world with him.
"You wouldn't have been able to argue with me about it anyway," he says, warm humor entering his voice, though it remains soft in a way that it often isn't. Soft, and without pretense or hurry. Drawing closer even against the press of her hand, he presses a curious kiss to the warm skin just in front of Rukia's ear, pulling away with reconsideration when her damp hair falls, cool, across his nose. Instead, he takes her free hand, squeezing it once in his, before pressing it to his face, holding it there more than kissing it. She smells clean, the sweetness of soap.
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Date: 2012-10-19 02:25 am (UTC)"You wouldn't have been able to argue with me about it anyway," he says, warm humor entering his voice, though it remains soft in a way that it often isn't. Soft, and without pretense or hurry. Drawing closer even against the press of her hand, he presses a curious kiss to the warm skin just in front of Rukia's ear, pulling away with reconsideration when her damp hair falls, cool, across his nose. Instead, he takes her free hand, squeezing it once in his, before pressing it to his face, holding it there more than kissing it. She smells clean, the sweetness of soap.