Re: Basement: Edge of the action
He was a man with old fashioned values of his own, the sort that believed in opening doors for women, pulling out their chair, covering the bill when it came after a shared dinner. It wasn't anything that had been particularly instilled in him from a young age, nothing that he had been taught, it was just the way he was naturally. He believed in happy endings, in white picket fences, two kids and a dog in the front yard, in family dinners and vacations to the shore. It was the kind of life he wanted, but not the kind of life he had ever led or hoped to lead.
But those thoughts were pushed aside in lieu of the kiss, and when she began to return it, to take up her part of the dance, he had to smile into the kiss, a grin that stretched his lips for just a moment as he dared to reach up, fingers lighting upon her upper arm as a second point of contact. He would have been content to let that carry on for God knows how long, but when she braced her palms against his bare chest, her palms warm, his chest just as warm, he pulled back, a swipe of his tongue over his lips as he opened his eyes again to look at her. "Not half bad?" he echoed, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a grin that was less boy next door and more boy across the tracks. "If you need another lesson, I'll just have to try a bit harder." The cigarette smoldered between his fingers and he drew back to take a drag before offering it to her, dark eyes intense upon hers.