Really? I just remember you yelled a lot when you thought we were going to fall. I don't really remember anything else. [ He chuckles at his own joke, making his body shake lightly with the slight movement. He still feels a little guilty for that one, but not really, because it gave him so much insight as to what kind of person Vietnam was. It, like most others that he's shared with her, is a fond memory, one that warms his heart.

Enough that he forgets to filter his thoughts for a split second, and he says, just low enough that Vietnam might miss it if he's lucky: ]

Part of me doesn't want it to.

[ Because it means that they have to depart from this, have to face the reality of battle and strife, rather than selfishly indulging in enjoying her company, and the closeness this dance demands of them. It may not be so bad to remain in limbo forever, if he didn't have to face such a fate alone.

The meaning of his words sets in, and almost immediately, his hands grow tense along her back again, uncertain. He wants to take them back, but rather than clarifying, seeks to once more hide his heated cheeks along the curve of her neck.

This time, he misses. Or rather, he follows exactly where instinct and desire leads him, to lightly press his lips against hers. ]