Although Sylvain doesn't voice his opinion, Hilda has similar sentiments. The night had been near perfect, and she could barely remember why she had left early in the first place. The moment of solitude had seemed needed but she realizes with the bubbly, happy glow of alcohol, that this is vastly preferred. Two gorgeous men, the prospect of pastries, and the likelihood of being carried to her soft bed? What had she been thinking leaving alone?
The cool tile underneath her feet would normally be cause for some whining (who knew what people were stepping in?) but there's a moment where it feels welcoming underneath her feet. Her toes wiggle happily before she loops her arm through Claude's, slotting into his side before she reaches for her shoes. ]
My shoes for one.
[ Using him as a bit of a stand, she slips the heels on again, humming in thought. ]
Something sweet. Like one of those strawberry filled croissants? Oo, or maybe two of them?
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Although Sylvain doesn't voice his opinion, Hilda has similar sentiments. The night had been near perfect, and she could barely remember why she had left early in the first place. The moment of solitude had seemed needed but she realizes with the bubbly, happy glow of alcohol, that this is vastly preferred. Two gorgeous men, the prospect of pastries, and the likelihood of being carried to her soft bed? What had she been thinking leaving alone?
The cool tile underneath her feet would normally be cause for some whining (who knew what people were stepping in?) but there's a moment where it feels welcoming underneath her feet. Her toes wiggle happily before she loops her arm through Claude's, slotting into his side before she reaches for her shoes. ]
My shoes for one.
[ Using him as a bit of a stand, she slips the heels on again, humming in thought. ]
Something sweet. Like one of those strawberry filled croissants? Oo, or maybe two of them?