And it was in that moment that Napoleon realized that he had actually kissed Illya. That Illya had been shocked. And that, he had expected. He had also expected anger, but this strange calmness, the sharpness of the warning of never to do it again...it felt a little like being rejected.
And that wasn't something he was not used to. Not when it counted. And while he knew there was no way in hell that Illya would ever look at him, like the way he was looking at the blond, the confirmation stung. He clenched his jaw, a sudden burst of emotion welling up in him. He swallowed it down to the best of his ability and nodded.
"Understood," he replied, voice thick with something he couldn't quite explain and looking away. He turned toward a nearby bench where he had left his towel and water bottle, picking up both. "Never again," he confirmed, looking for a quick exit. Clearing his voice, he tried putting on a more jovial tone and said, "Thank you for the lesson, Peril, but I think I should go shower."