Morpheus liked to think that he was a good guy. He did. He liked to think that, in situations where, for example, one found themselves stranded on a spaceship, he would focus on the problem of being stranded versus, say, a beautiful goddess who was heading in the direction of doing her damnedest to make him forget pretty much everything that wasn't a biological urge.
He liked to think that.
Everything Nanshe was doing made him wonder for a split second if maybe she wasn't the devil.
For a moment, all he could do was look at her. The way she was looking at him, the way she was touching him... and how long it'd been since he'd seen Nanshe--ANY Nanshe...
Morpheus bit his lip. His expression intimated that he was in pain. He did not wish to remind her about the alien spacecraft they were traipsing about on because if he did, she might stop touching him.
But if he didn't...
But how much worse was the situation going to get if he picked her up and carried her back to his room for an hour or two? Really, was it going to get worse?
Goddamnit.
"I."
It didn't come out as smoothly as he'd hoped.
"I'd like you to tell me more about how much you like picnics but that miiiight be irresponsible. Do we care if it's irresponsible?"