[ gale eyes her delicate hand with the wariness of one unused to physical connection, not necessarily one frightened of this outreach specifically. that fearful gaze and quavering tone doesn't quite fit their shadowheart, even so. the woman he imagines quips something harsher, better you than lae'zel or that's a pity. he thinks of armand baring his throat and finds himself once again at a loss.

his hand itches to grasp hers. desperation, after a year of isolation. the enchantments, silken on his skin. it matters not; he resists.]

I — I should add that there are charms drawing us together at this very moment, so you might not be feeling quite yourself.

[ that explains everything, surely. ]