You sing me to sleep, talk down my walls

[bookish_nanao]

Name(s): Nanao Ise, Shunsui Kyoraku [closed]
Location: Nanao's personal rooms.
Week: 43
Time: The evening of the masquerade.
Rating: G/PG?

Comments

[pinkhaori]

It was both unexpected and entirely predictable, being hit in the face by Nanao. As it was, Shunsui hopped back, large hand raised to cover his face, eyes staring at her mournfully over it in what amounted to possibly the most pitiful expression any man had ever made at a woman.

"Oiiii, Nanao-chan!" he wailed, moving his hand to pout magnificently at her. "How can such a beautiful woman be so cold?" He raised his eyes toward the ceiling, looking past it into some great unknown. "Aaah, this is what I get for being such a gentleman," he said plaintively.

Dropping his gaze, he set his sights on her once more, and if she looked back, she'd notice the twinkle had never left his eyes.

"You wound me," Shunsui declared, arm thrown across his chest to press his hand dramatically over his heart. "You speak as if I am not the very definition of seriousness." He paused then, and chuckled low. "You may be right," he said, and leaned forward again. "But I could be serious about you." Another pause. He ignored her apology entirely, not considering such silliness worthy of a response. She had nothing to be sorry for, it was a perfectly understandable reaction to finding yourself a ghost. "It's been so long since I had to adjust..." He trailed off, looking far away for a moment. It had been long since he'd died, hundreds of years now. But here he was, picking up a beautiful woman to take to a party, testament to his philosophy that not even death had to change things if you didn't want it to. "You seem to have recovered wonderfully, though of course I would expect no less."

Shunsui held his arm out, offering his elbow. "Shall we?" he asked. "Or would you rather stay in?" He waggled his eyebrows for added effect. He never could leave well enough alone.

[bookish_nanao]

Nanao was not so cold as to be unmoved by the mournful look on Shunsui's face, but she had enough self control not to show it. At least one of them had to be an adult about this... thing, and for now it looked like it would have to be her.

She patiently endured his dramatics, trying not to think of him as an overeager puppy. His comment about being serious... unsettled her for a moment. More than she wanted to admit, truth be told. But Shunsui continued despite it, and the not all that unwelcome flutterings in her stomach were soon quelled.
She still hadn't completely figured him out yet, to her analytical and orderly mind's dismay. But she was working on it, and it didn't mind him nearly so much now as she had once.

Nanao frownned to hide her sudden blush, but took the proffered arm. "You look ridiculous when you do that." she said sternly, trying not to think about how small and delicate her hand looked in the crook of his elbow. "And if I stay in, you will not be staying with me."

No. She was not thinking about that. At all.

[pinkhaori]

Shunsui beamed as Nanao took his arm, his smile just charming enough to avoid smugness. It was an expression he'd perfected hundreds of years before Nanao was born, a glimmer of flirtatiousness in his eyes, a promise of fun in the tilt of his lips. Few women had ever been able to resist it. That Nanao had resisted, more than once, was more intriguing than disappointing. It only made him more determined to get past her defenses.

"Ah, Nanao-chan," he sighed. "Always with the words that pierce my heart." She would know, of course, that he was not serious. His face would betray him; a raised eyebrow, and a widened smile. He felt as giddy as he ever had in his fourth year at Hogwarts, when the prettiest girl in school had agreed to accompany him to the Yule Ball. It was something that delighted him, to be able feel so much after so long. Nanao had lit a fire in his chest, something that glowed warm and soothing whenever she was near.

"I promise to be good," he said as he began to lead her down the hall, though the mirth in his voice was probably suspect. "Perhaps you'll reconsider after you see how well I dance."