[ as chatty as vane could be, he somehow finds himself in that... zone. that zone where he's completely certain that anything he says will come out as just incessant blabbering. directionless and more in diversion than anything else. it's why he opens and closes his mouth—
once, then twice. before a small muttering of: ] ... more of?
[ it's quiet, and he swallows hard. he seems to debate over her words. then, it hits him. ] Ah! You mean, the armor is cold? [ with that... knowledge, he seems a bit more malleable to the situation, he begins removing it off of him. peeling it away, before he's just left with his orange shirt and his black undershirt. ]
How's this? No more armor. [ a pause, as he reaches out to touch her cheek. ] You okay?
no subject
once, then twice. before a small muttering of: ] ... more of?
[ it's quiet, and he swallows hard. he seems to debate over her words. then, it hits him. ] Ah! You mean, the armor is cold? [ with that... knowledge, he seems a bit more malleable to the situation, he begins removing it off of him. peeling it away, before he's just left with his orange shirt and his black undershirt. ]
How's this? No more armor. [ a pause, as he reaches out to touch her cheek. ] You okay?