Kell's fingertips found the folds in the back of her outfit, caught there and held on, still not quite able to look her in the eye. Air still wasn't quite coming -- even Rhy had never spoken to him like this, as free as he was with his affection.

It still felt very much like he was standing on the threshold of losing her. As though she were saying this because she feared she might lose her chance to do so.

But that, he sensed, did not make it less true.

He lifted a hand, brushed her hair back from her face, parted his lips. He wasn't made for soft things, for spelling out how he felt, for romantic gestures or even (he considered, ruefully) for true honesty.

With Neria's kiss still warm on his cheek, he leaned in, caught the edge of her mouth with his own. Warm. Soft as he could make it. Pulled back, just enough to meet her eyes.