[ He's fast. Maybe not blink-and-you'll-miss fast, but fast enough to catch Roche off guard. One minute he's there and the next Roche finds himself with a strong hand against the column of his throat. His own reflexes kick in before he can even think to stop them too, one of his own shooting up to encircle around smooth metal and squeezing down just enough to secure a decent grip for himself in the event he finds himself ungrounded.
It doesn't come yet, but he can never be certain. Clearing his throat a little, Roche tilts his head back and grimaces at the sound of one clawtip snagging on his undershirt and the barely-there pressure. Great, he thinks to himself, He would catch that loose thread. ]
I'm not saying I'm not into this, but—
[ Not the time, dumbass. ]
Our dear Stormcloud— [ Cloud, he realizes and Roche can't help the crooked grin. He'd been damn close when picking that nickname out, huh? Good job. ] —is just fine. He's a big boy who can handle himself. Believe me, I've had the privilege of sharing a dance or two with him in the past.
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It doesn't come yet, but he can never be certain. Clearing his throat a little, Roche tilts his head back and grimaces at the sound of one clawtip snagging on his undershirt and the barely-there pressure. Great, he thinks to himself, He would catch that loose thread. ]
I'm not saying I'm not into this, but—
[ Not the time, dumbass. ]
Our dear Stormcloud— [ Cloud, he realizes and Roche can't help the crooked grin. He'd been damn close when picking that nickname out, huh? Good job. ] —is just fine. He's a big boy who can handle himself. Believe me, I've had the privilege of sharing a dance or two with him in the past.