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Catherine St. Giles ✩ Nyx (full_of_stars) wrote in paxletalelogs,

With hands well-practiced on her own phone, Cat nimbly tapped away at the smooth surface of his touchscreen, the message appearing quickly and accurately. The message was sent as she turned to look at him, listening to him assure her that he wasn't at his best. A soft, if wry, sort of half-smile curved her lips at the caveat, although when he doubled over, however controlled the motion, her hand fluttered to his back. The touch was so light that he might not have even known it was there, but she felt the heat of his skin through his shirt, and moved her hand away, disguising the intimate gesture, as she sat back up.

"Maybe you ought to lean back," she suggested, moving forward to press almost undetectably on his shoulder. "Or even lie down. If you promise to recline in some way, I shall tell you whatever you'd like." She gave him a sidelong glance, and that half-smile returned.

"Within reason."

Once he looked a bit more relaxed, she sat a bit closer, her hand rising again, this time to stroke his hair back from his forehead. His skin felt warm compared to hers, and it struck her as odd, even though she knew this was a natural thing. Slowly, her thumb stroked over his hair, and she spoke.

"I am not an American citizen," she said with a slight smile. "Though perhaps you could tell by my accent. My first love was Thelonious Monk, and I haven't quite decided yet, but I may well hate Southern California." She smiled. "Quite impolite and un-English of me to tell you so, but I suppose we've bonded."

Her hand shifted, and she lightly rested it on his forehead.

"Where did you grow up, then? You don't seem like the Southern California type."