Qebhet ran her teeth over her bottom lip again, studying Much's face quietly. He had such a mobile face, always animated, no matter whether he was speaking or listening. Now it was quite still, and it made him seem... younger, she thought. More vulnerable.
"I'm not good at taking risks," she admitted. She turned his hand over in hers, but she didn't let go, and her eyes never left his. "But you... you don't feel like a risk. Not really." Awkwardness was always a possibility, but they'd already survived that once now. And could she really believe that Much, who saw the good in people so readily, who beneath his easy manner cared so deeply, would hurt her? No. That was her own fear talking, nothing more.
Qebhet drew in a soft breath, and let the fear go.
"And... since we're both agreed about not messing things up..." She moved slowly, but not out of hesitation, reaching out her free hand to stroke his cheek, still warm with the heat of his blush. Then she leaned in, closing the remaining space between them, and kissed him.