[That could be a confession, if said in the right tones, and it almost is. He does do a lot of things he shouldn't, both in situations like this one and in ones that are far more dangerous. He wonders what he seems like to her, whether he seems like a dangerous person by nature, whether she's scared of him or simply intrigued by him. She doesn't seem scared. She seems... Flustered.
The fact that she's not meeting his gaze should probably be a sign that he should step away, that pursuing this -- and what is this, really? What does he want, here? He's not sure -- is foolish, but instead of leaving, he takes another step towards her.]
I'll leave, if you tell me to.
[Because he's always been so, so good at following orders, and he'll put it in her hands. If she wants him to stop disrupting the quiet solitude of the garden, he'll go back inside and talk to all those people he doesn't want to talk to. If she tells him to stay -- or rather, doesn't tell him to go away -- he'll stay. He knows which he'd prefer.
There's still that flirtatious note in his voice, but he's serious, too. Maybe too serious, around someone he's just met, but he's never been all that good at caution, not at parties and certainly not when talking to women he finds oddly fascinating, in places where they're alone. The idea that her husband (or some other individual) may stumble across them talking here and suspect something untoward occurs to him, but he dismisses it. He's not worried. Maybe he should be.]
no subject
[That could be a confession, if said in the right tones, and it almost is. He does do a lot of things he shouldn't, both in situations like this one and in ones that are far more dangerous. He wonders what he seems like to her, whether he seems like a dangerous person by nature, whether she's scared of him or simply intrigued by him. She doesn't seem scared. She seems... Flustered.
The fact that she's not meeting his gaze should probably be a sign that he should step away, that pursuing this -- and what is this, really? What does he want, here? He's not sure -- is foolish, but instead of leaving, he takes another step towards her.]
I'll leave, if you tell me to.
[Because he's always been so, so good at following orders, and he'll put it in her hands. If she wants him to stop disrupting the quiet solitude of the garden, he'll go back inside and talk to all those people he doesn't want to talk to. If she tells him to stay -- or rather, doesn't tell him to go away -- he'll stay. He knows which he'd prefer.
There's still that flirtatious note in his voice, but he's serious, too. Maybe too serious, around someone he's just met, but he's never been all that good at caution, not at parties and certainly not when talking to women he finds oddly fascinating, in places where they're alone. The idea that her husband (or some other individual) may stumble across them talking here and suspect something untoward occurs to him, but he dismisses it. He's not worried. Maybe he should be.]