[ And for her part, the softness with which Diluc regards her, especially in the time since they've entered a relationship is a treasure she holds dear. She remembers vividly, still, the way they met: her trying to soothe the growing frustration of a stranger thrust into an unfamiliar realm. She understands why friends like Hilda have the impression that he's a grumpy sort - he has moments, certainly, much like anyone else would (alright, maybe moreso than others). But with her, and with Thoma, he's as gentle and kindhearted as he is passionate and rough around the edges. She relishes in the sound of his light laugh and the way that he slows their dance just to say something utterly charming, such that Ori cannot keep herself from smiling.

Enchanting, beautiful, irresistible. These are all words that her partners have used as of late in reference to her. All words that she would have never thought for herself. But in their hands, they feel almost like words she can believe in. ]

... You flatter me, milord, though if I were to be honest - I don't care, either.

[ She reaches up with her hand to tuck his hair behind his ear, so she can see more of his face. The tips of her fingers brush against the edge of his mask. ]

May I see you beneath your mask, Diluc?