Their pinkies slowly separated.
The space between their hands felt warmer than it should have, like embers left behind after a flame was gone. Aubrelle drew her arm back, careful, measured, as if any sudden movement might betray how flustered she still felt.
The color remained on her cheeks.
It crept beneath the bandage that hid her eyes, spreading softly, like dusk bleeding into the horizon. She stood very still, focusing on her breathing, smoothing it out one inhale at a time. Not rushed. Not obvious. Or at least, that was the intent.
This wasn't the first time Trafalgar had done this to her.
The memory surfaced on its own. That quiet room. His voice, calm and sincere, telling her her eyes were beautiful. Even with the scar. Especially with it.
She had left immediately after that. Too flustered to stay. Too certain he hadn't seen the color rise to her face.
And now, here, under the cover of night and open sky, she believed the same thing again.
Darkness protected her.
