pointyxearedbastard-a asked
feather light press of his fingers; long pads, trailed down a slim wrist. past the skin of her palm. and touched to hers in passing. a promise for later, as he leaves the bridge.
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SHE SMILES  ( a small secret thing hidden away in the corner of her mouth )   at the FLUSH of affection and warmth that washes over her  :  her own fingers curling against his briefly in return, ECHOING the feeling. it LINGERS, even after he’s left, as she turns back to her station and allows her grin to take full bloom.

tc