[rude as he may have been, kaiba was still japanese at his core. accordingly, he knows better than to intrude in someone else's home. at least most of the time.
so when he's invited in, he doesn't hesitate. he neatly toes off his shoes at the door, as requested, and perches on the edge of said bed. despite the implied intimacy of it, there was nothing like aggression or suggestion in his countenance or posture; he looks downright polite, glancing around the room as she readies herself.
but damn. he can't help but stare as all that hair comes tumbling down. maybe pretty was an understatement.]
Did you want me to read something...?
[it reminds him of those bygone days, reading to his little brother as he fell asleep. a nostalgic memory, if bitter sweet.]
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so when he's invited in, he doesn't hesitate. he neatly toes off his shoes at the door, as requested, and perches on the edge of said bed. despite the implied intimacy of it, there was nothing like aggression or suggestion in his countenance or posture; he looks downright polite, glancing around the room as she readies herself.
but damn. he can't help but stare as all that hair comes tumbling down. maybe pretty was an understatement.]
Did you want me to read something...?
[it reminds him of those bygone days, reading to his little brother as he fell asleep. a nostalgic memory, if bitter sweet.]