[Her first response catches him by surprise. It's not a sound he's heard come from her before. He must tread with care, he knows. As he always has. In a way, she's right. He doesn't have to say it. But he does because to him it's the moment. It's appropriate. When he's holding her, when he's this close to her, all he wants to do is shower her in flattering remarks. It's not because he wants anything in return. It's because that's how he genuinely feels and sometimes it feels as if his insides might burst if he never has the chance to free them from tongue every now and again.

As her head dips, he leans carefully to rest his head against hers.]

If you don't like it, I won't do it.

[He's resolute on that. He can keep those kinds of things inside. It doesn't make him feel them any less. All he wants to do is love her with every part of his being. Isn't that all he has of value to give her? That love, in whatever capacity she wants it.]

Sometimes, it just feels like I can't contain it anymore. I can. I know that I can. I don't have a good excuse.

[His thumb moves and with a gentle blindness, he traces his touch along the height of her cheek.]