[jason's ‘cute’ remark lingers with him the whole way to their bedroom and even as he kneels down, but while rummaging through the bottom drawer, it dawns on him to perhaps focus on what's happening around him rather than just that (or the possibility he'll be in the hot seat for staring). he finds the dark grey, almost black sweats without much trouble, takes his time folding them over and over in his hands then gently slides the drawer back into place. once he's upright again, the pants get clutched to his chest, breath exhaling in a slow, deliberate sigh as he dawdles just behind the curtain.
“he's young,” and “already tipsy,” are initially what make sizhui's ears flare with embarrassment; slowing down isn't the worst idea, let's be real, because gods forbid he do something he might regret later— nope, certainly not thinking about that right now! a vigorous head-shake, like doing so might eject his thoughts then sizhui squares his shoulders, heads back toward the kitchen, hoping he looks as plucky as he feels. (which actually isn't too bad? credit where credit is due, too: dick did ask, “can you blame him?” after all.)]
Sorry, sorry! [sizhui pipes, maybe somewhat higher than he means, though he manages smiling anyway while offering dick the sweatpants.] I got distracted for a moment. [by what won't come so easily. this time, he keeps his attention on the floor, waits until his hands are emptied and darts toward jason and his drink he'd abandoned afterward.] Ah, you... you cleaned up the water!
[surprised, but pleasantly so whenever he realizes his feet aren't wet. he tips back what remains in the glass, sets it aside, dabs his lips with his knuckles and leans to peck jason right against his temple.] Thank you, tiánxīn. [then he withdraws again, remembering too-well how jason had felt about his pda the last time they were all three in the same room.]
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“he's young,” and “already tipsy,” are initially what make sizhui's ears flare with embarrassment; slowing down isn't the worst idea, let's be real, because gods forbid he do something he might regret later— nope, certainly not thinking about that right now! a vigorous head-shake, like doing so might eject his thoughts then sizhui squares his shoulders, heads back toward the kitchen, hoping he looks as plucky as he feels. (which actually isn't too bad? credit where credit is due, too: dick did ask, “can you blame him?” after all.)]
Sorry, sorry! [sizhui pipes, maybe somewhat higher than he means, though he manages smiling anyway while offering dick the sweatpants.] I got distracted for a moment. [by what won't come so easily. this time, he keeps his attention on the floor, waits until his hands are emptied and darts toward jason and his drink he'd abandoned afterward.] Ah, you... you cleaned up the water!
[surprised, but pleasantly so whenever he realizes his feet aren't wet. he tips back what remains in the glass, sets it aside, dabs his lips with his knuckles and leans to peck jason right against his temple.] Thank you, tiánxīn. [then he withdraws again, remembering too-well how jason had felt about his pda the last time they were all three in the same room.]