♪ Taemin had missed the expressions on the male’s face as his back was facing him, although when he spoke he could tell from the tone of his voice that there was a possible grin on his face— maybe from excitement. He wasn’t sure when it came to this male, he always appeared rather mysterious and intriguing. Though the way he spoke made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and his eyebrows tugged together a bit, reaching up with his hand to rub his nape. He brushed the feelings that crept up on him and instead walked into the kitchen, stealing small glances at the male who was still by the door. “Ah, sure.” He murmured, reaching up to grab a glass from the cabinet. Despite the other not being thirsty, he felt parched.
Lowering his gaze as he poured the tap water into his small glass he refused to meet the other’s gaze, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable at his question. Where exactly did it come from and why did it matter if he was or not? “Squeamish? What does that have to do with anything?” He said, finally lifting his gaze to stare at Francesco. “To answer your question though, I’m not squeamish.” He smiled just a little and brought the glass to his lips, nearly gulping the entire thing down in one. Wiping his mouth off with his sleeve, he set the glass away. “Make yourself comfortable. You can sit wherever and we can discuss this.. trade?”
He hummed quietly—a sound which may have even morphed into the beginning of an old melody, a lullaby he had once heard. But it soon faded away into nothing, as his black eyes fell upon the couch, and he moved with seamless grace to seat himself. A leg was crossed over the other and he remained with a straight back, fingertips touching the gold platinum necklace around his neck. Playing with it idly, as he tilted his head, pretending to think over his words. “It has everything to do with it”, he answered him, gaze swerving towards Taemin, and the corners of full lips tugged into an impish hint of a smile. One of his hands touched the couch beside him, stroking over the fabric in a clear invitation. “Come here”, he said, as if his gesture had not been enough. He watched Taemin's body-language closely, kept an eye out for any hints of awkwardness in his posture, listened for any hesitance in his words. Things which could sometimes be clear as crystal to see, and murky as mud at others. But there was often something, if you looked close enough. Just something, to give them away. Give their feelings, away.
