[ There's something a little dry to Hilda's expression as she raises an eyebrow. Her thoughts immediately go to the clothes that Claude preferred to don at home, namely his jacket. It looked thicker and heavier than it actually was. While there was no denying that it was a beautifully made piece (she had poured over every detail when she had laid her eyes on it, noting the craftsmanship and how she hadn't ever seen anything like it before which, when voiced, had only been met with a nonchalant shrug from its owner), it was more puffy than heavy.
She had never shared her own opinion with him that she thought he might wear it to make himself look buffer than he was — he probably would have been a little offended by that — but she liked that it made him look cuddly. Regardless, the same went for the armor he'd wear when they were fighting: it was nothing compared to the armor that Lorenz or Sylvain wore.
Any dryness seems to melt away with the feeling of Claude's fingers in her hair. Her eyes flutter closed and she lets out a quiet little sigh, settling back into the chair. She'd normally chide him for not using a brush but beggars couldn't be choosers, and if she were being perfectly honest with herself, this was a much better feeling than a comb. When was the last time he'd done something like this for her? Both of her eyes open at his empty threat that she meets with a long, flat stare that may or may not be a dare for him to try it and see what would happen. ]
You wouldn't do that. [ And then she pulls a face at the thought of Lorenz's unfortunate hairstyle during their younger years. ] Whoever told him that those bangs would look good with that length must have really had it out for him. Thank goodness he took my advice to grow it out.
[ But the mention of their tiresome, but well-meaning friend, makes her go quiet. It reminds her that she still didn't know his fate, which only leads to the slippery slope that had become knowing her own future in Petra's timeline. Despite her best efforts to avoid that slippery slope, Hilda can feel her feet catch from under her, slipping on proverbial rocks and rubble that would send her over the edge if she didn't stop herself. But her mind runs, and her chest tightens soon joined by the uncomfortable clamminess creeping up her spine. Silence hangs in the air, and she watches Claude's actions in the mirror, committing everything about this to memory. ] Claude, can I ask you something?
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She had never shared her own opinion with him that she thought he might wear it to make himself look buffer than he was — he probably would have been a little offended by that — but she liked that it made him look cuddly. Regardless, the same went for the armor he'd wear when they were fighting: it was nothing compared to the armor that Lorenz or Sylvain wore.
Any dryness seems to melt away with the feeling of Claude's fingers in her hair. Her eyes flutter closed and she lets out a quiet little sigh, settling back into the chair. She'd normally chide him for not using a brush but beggars couldn't be choosers, and if she were being perfectly honest with herself, this was a much better feeling than a comb. When was the last time he'd done something like this for her? Both of her eyes open at his empty threat that she meets with a long, flat stare that may or may not be a dare for him to try it and see what would happen. ]
You wouldn't do that. [ And then she pulls a face at the thought of Lorenz's unfortunate hairstyle during their younger years. ] Whoever told him that those bangs would look good with that length must have really had it out for him. Thank goodness he took my advice to grow it out.
[ But the mention of their tiresome, but well-meaning friend, makes her go quiet. It reminds her that she still didn't know his fate, which only leads to the slippery slope that had become knowing her own future in Petra's timeline. Despite her best efforts to avoid that slippery slope, Hilda can feel her feet catch from under her, slipping on proverbial rocks and rubble that would send her over the edge if she didn't stop herself. But her mind runs, and her chest tightens soon joined by the uncomfortable clamminess creeping up her spine. Silence hangs in the air, and she watches Claude's actions in the mirror, committing everything about this to memory. ] Claude, can I ask you something?