*watches you openly and doesn't shy from the open air, though she cannot help the faint blush that stains her cheeks (she isn't used to the... lack of ceremony, perhaps?)*
*keeps hold of her brush but molds herself to you without complaint* *runs her fingertips delicately over your shoulder, down your arm (living, breathing sculpture)* No need to apologize. *smiles, just this side of mischievous* Especially as I quite agree with your last sentiment.