R's eyes wander down to her hand, which seems to be doing something that's surprisingly intimate: extended touch with his corpse's knuckles. Braving his cold flesh. His heart flutters again and this time he's sure it's not just the Cure trying to do something about the undead thing.
"Not..." R pauses. If he was truly alive, the pause would've been theatrical, for effect, to gauge reaction. For him, though, he's busy trying to line up his words. "Yet. Maybe...soon..."
He knows Julie will have questions. And because this is a date and the sun is gleaming outside and her thumb is caressing warm circles around his skin, he purses his lips and gears himself, something that must be courage swelling until his chest feels like it'll burst. The first syllables come out in a flood:
"They gave me a...Cure," R struggles gamely on, his mouth working behind the muzzle. "Said..I'll be...different for...Arena. Be like...you. Wanted...to tell you."
He looks at their entwined hands, her pink against his grey, and looks back up at her face. She's smart, she'll figure out what that means. He's hoping it's a one-way trip back to life and the Cure won't reject him. Maybe one day they can hold hands and they'll both be the same pulse, the same skin flushed with blood and he won't look at her and have the hunger muttering in the back it wishes it could kill her already. Julie smiles at him, light reflects off the glass of water that's appeared next to her courtesy of a waiter, and he supposes this is what love with the Living must be like. Confusing. Hopeful. Looking forward to the future for a change even if Perry's suddenly on the horizon.
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"Not..." R pauses. If he was truly alive, the pause would've been theatrical, for effect, to gauge reaction. For him, though, he's busy trying to line up his words. "Yet. Maybe...soon..."
He knows Julie will have questions. And because this is a date and the sun is gleaming outside and her thumb is caressing warm circles around his skin, he purses his lips and gears himself, something that must be courage swelling until his chest feels like it'll burst. The first syllables come out in a flood:
"They gave me a...Cure," R struggles gamely on, his mouth working behind the muzzle. "Said..I'll be...different for...Arena. Be like...you. Wanted...to tell you."
He looks at their entwined hands, her pink against his grey, and looks back up at her face. She's smart, she'll figure out what that means. He's hoping it's a one-way trip back to life and the Cure won't reject him. Maybe one day they can hold hands and they'll both be the same pulse, the same skin flushed with blood and he won't look at her and have the hunger muttering in the back it wishes it could kill her already. Julie smiles at him, light reflects off the glass of water that's appeared next to her courtesy of a waiter, and he supposes this is what love with the Living must be like. Confusing. Hopeful. Looking forward to the future for a change even if Perry's suddenly on the horizon.