Carmy takes the cue, pressing closer through the hips and upwards, though he's still trying to keep some of his weight on one elbow. It's because she's tiny, and because he wants room to touch her, palming the base of her ribs and then up to cup one breast, slow so she can push him away if this isn't gonna be heavy petting. Wet paint is smearing, dried paint is flaking off, he's gonna be colourful when they finally break apart - Carmy doesn't care. He's breathing a little fast through his nose, against her chest, heart pounding, happy and nervous about being happy.