Gray had a ready answer for that, he always did--charm was a mask, a tool, and even with the sun smoothing every wrinkle in his mood, shaking out his thoughts so they fell billowing and soft across his mind the reflex was to reach for it. To say something witty or playful, if not outright flirty...
He made a conscious choice, however, not to. Right as her fingers shifted in his, and his thumb strayed to run over one knuckle.
"It's not out of bounds...but I don't hear it often." he admitted. "I don't smile a lot--real smiles. Not the kind you use around strangers or people you don't want to tell how you really feel about something. Those aren't the kind of smiles people say that about...maybe because they can tell they aren't real."
The touch of color that slips into his cheeks, Gray will deny with his dying breath--or would, if he ever had one. A real one.
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He made a conscious choice, however, not to. Right as her fingers shifted in his, and his thumb strayed to run over one knuckle.
"It's not out of bounds...but I don't hear it often." he admitted. "I don't smile a lot--real smiles. Not the kind you use around strangers or people you don't want to tell how you really feel about something. Those aren't the kind of smiles people say that about...maybe because they can tell they aren't real."
The touch of color that slips into his cheeks, Gray will deny with his dying breath--or would, if he ever had one. A real one.
"You make me smile for real. Laugh for real."