[Sakamoto's sweaty palms move upwards to grasp the hand on his forehead instinctively. Holding hands is like kissing, almost, but only when the hand you are holding is special enough.]
What?
[Said in disbelief, almost.]
Were you tryin' ta wake me up?
[He turns red, too, when he realizes what Zura means.
(not that the other hasn't been the star of this merchant's unseemly fantasies for a while now)]
no subject
What?
[Said in disbelief, almost.]
Were you tryin' ta wake me up?
[He turns red, too, when he realizes what Zura means.
(not that the other hasn't been the star of this merchant's unseemly fantasies for a while now)]