[ She doesn't mean to stare. Really, she doesn't. But the moment she catches sight of his expression she knows without even having to think about it at all that she's never seen a look like that on his face before. It's tender - but in the way a bruise is tender, something that aches all the more when you make the mistake of touching it. She knows without even having to think about it that she's worn a face like that before herself.
After all - a person who could tolerate her, accept her as she is... she didn't believe they could ever exist either.
Even though she knows they must be pressed close together in reality - it's how she fell asleep, after all - she suddenly wants to do the same here, too. Anything that'll stop him from making that pained face.
But she stays where she is. Her thumb starts a slow, steady sweep over the back of his hand, but that's it. ]
I know Masters and Servants are supposed to be compatible but this is a little silly. [ She murmurs it low and warm, quiet enough that he can pretend not to hear it. If he needs to. ] We really are the same.
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After all - a person who could tolerate her, accept her as she is... she didn't believe they could ever exist either.
Even though she knows they must be pressed close together in reality - it's how she fell asleep, after all - she suddenly wants to do the same here, too. Anything that'll stop him from making that pained face.
But she stays where she is. Her thumb starts a slow, steady sweep over the back of his hand, but that's it. ]
I know Masters and Servants are supposed to be compatible but this is a little silly. [ She murmurs it low and warm, quiet enough that he can pretend not to hear it. If he needs to. ] We really are the same.