the warmth is well appreciated, augmenting the airy, feathery feeling in his chest; that placid—like anomaly, unable to place a defining word on it. wrists will fall, as his theatrics do simultaneously. “ didja get a 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 look? ♪ ” his nose nudges——dipping
It’s an unnecessary display, yet it doesn’t fail to paint a smile on his face. Though it doesn’t end at that; both hands would soon try to replace other’s where dimples sink.
It makes him look younger, more boyish. A smile to remember.
sour mood, miss? ☆ ( 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 closely into proximity, lone pupil observing her countenance.. ) c’mon, tell me! slept on the wrong side of th’ bed or something?
c’mon, surely you can do better than that! ( his overly exaggerated example .. fingertips pressed in own dimples, stretching out into a wide, toothy grin. )