[ There's a brief moment where he can hear the din of the tavern die down. Cloud's hear maybe skips a beat as he realize, in a burst of confidence, all eyes are on the two of them - the delivery boy, head-over-heels for the small-town songbird. It's almost enough to make him get cold feet— ]
Woah!
[ And then, like a whirlwind, she drags him along. In the direction of the stage? That'd make the most sense, but the truth is he's not really paying much attention to where they stop. Especially not when Aerith's right in front of him.
...Is she checking him out? Nah, couldn't be, right? ]
Mosey? Heh. Let's. [ He returns a smile in kind, and the musical accompaniment, waiting in the wings, takes this as initiative to start to play a jaunty little tune - not too slow, not to fast. But it's little more than warmup noodling, seemingly taking their cues from the two who have risen to their feet, to the stares of many. It gives him time to pull Aerith close, drink her in, eyes moving from her brilliant eyes back down to the body he's pulling deeper into his arms (Her slender build, her graceful, confident steps. Not dainty. Not fragile. She'd never go for that—) and back up again.
Hey, turnabout was fair play. ]
How do you want to take this? Fast... or slow? [ It's an honest question. He feels on top of the world, right now, and he's giving Aerith free reign to say whether they let this candle burn... or they set fire to the whole damn tavern, here and now. ]
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Woah!
[ And then, like a whirlwind, she drags him along. In the direction of the stage? That'd make the most sense, but the truth is he's not really paying much attention to where they stop. Especially not when Aerith's right in front of him.
...Is she checking him out? Nah, couldn't be, right? ]
Mosey? Heh. Let's. [ He returns a smile in kind, and the musical accompaniment, waiting in the wings, takes this as initiative to start to play a jaunty little tune - not too slow, not to fast. But it's little more than warmup noodling, seemingly taking their cues from the two who have risen to their feet, to the stares of many. It gives him time to pull Aerith close, drink her in, eyes moving from her brilliant eyes back down to the body he's pulling deeper into his arms (Her slender build, her graceful, confident steps. Not dainty. Not fragile. She'd never go for that—) and back up again.
Hey, turnabout was fair play. ]
How do you want to take this? Fast... or slow? [ It's an honest question. He feels on top of the world, right now, and he's giving Aerith free reign to say whether they let this candle burn... or they set fire to the whole damn tavern, here and now. ]