#〔 dynamic ╰┈➤ order meets chaos in silk gloves. ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ aventurine/jing yuan : warmarshall 〕

[aequitaes]

It's dark when he begins to wake, which is concerning, given that the automatic shutoff for the lights in the Seat of Divine Foresight is at a far later time than the hour he'd teased the Stoneheart with. Granted, he hadn't actually meant to fall asleep, however Aventurine ran a lovey level of warm, and he'd been fighting exhaustion since the morning- some days were more tiring than others, in his old age. Knowing he should wake doesn't quite register to his conscious mind, and his body instead nuzzles closer, cheek against the gloriously soft fabric of Aventurine's thigh. As he does, the man's scent invades his senses- woody and a touch floral, with an undercurrent of something sweet and heady- and he sighs in the back of his throat. Aventurine's hand grips the fabric on the back of his shoulder, and he begins to wake.

Two things get his attention immediately- the soft, trembling gasp from overhead... and the faint shift of the thigh beneath his cheek, driven up and forward by an involuntary twitch of the hips his arm is wrapped around.

(And oh, isn't that quite the apology he'll have to give?)

More than the movement, however, it's the sensation that accompanies it- a hot, hard swell against his cheek- that makes his eyes blink open immediately. Lifting his head proves that the lights aren't yet off- but rather that Aventurine had thrown his blazer over his head to shield him from the light. In fact, much of their current position seems to be for the benefit of his comfort in this situation... and the discomfort of the blond above him. Well- perhaps discomfort isn't the right word... chagrin, perhaps? Mortification? Yet sleep-hazed as he is, the General can't quite parse it as real, presuming he's having quite the dream indeed.

So he allows himself an indulgence, leaning his cheek back against that same thigh, that same restrained hardness, and blinks languidly up at Aventurine, arm tightening around his hips.

"Since that's likely the fault of my admittedly... presumptuous behavior," he smiles, slow and sleepy still, a yawn escaping, tongue curling against the back of a sharp incisor. "...shall I take care of it for you?"

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞, though he tried - and failed. For a short while, he let his mind wander, reflecting on how different his life looked now. The Stoneheart would never have presumed himself in a position quite like this - and he’d been in many. Aside from the tingling sensation running the length of his outer thigh from waning circulation, he wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. In truth, he hadn’t truly believed Jing Yuan would take that nap he teased about, yet… he let him rest anyway.

It became harder to ignore, however, when the General brushed alongside the inside of his thigh, when he could feel the slow, measured breath blooming in a far more intimate place than was wise. Yeah, you’re gonna have to stop that, he thought, shifting inch by inch to grant himself reprieve - lest the man wake to the mortification of exactly what effect he was having. He was quick to throw his blazer over the General’s head, shielding him from the light, perhaps even offering a sliver of dignity to the moment. Or maybe it was more for himself.

It wasn’t that Aventurine didn’t want that kind of closeness. He did. And he hadn’t exactly been subtle about it. But Aventurine was playing the long game. People didn’t stick around for someone like him, not when the thrill wore off. Not when it came to staying. And so, he wouldn’t put Jing Yuan in a position he hadn’t consciously chosen.

Still, when an arm curled tighter around his waist and a yawn followed close behind, Aventurine knew that sleepy weight was about to become something much more dangerous. He steeled himself, ready to play it off - to turn it into a joke, a flirt, a passing fantasy. What he didn’t expect was the offer. The words spoken in a low drawl, sleep drunk but undeniably real.

His cheeks flushed, tinged a shade of soft pink that only deepened as he looked down at the man sprawled contentedly between his legs, utterly unbothered by his position. His smirk returned - knowing, but no less teasing. “Well,” he began, a hand lifting to gently feather through white strands, “I think it’s only fair.” It was a tease. Or at least, it started that way - because surely, surely, Jing Yuan wouldn’t follow through. Not like that. Not here.

“But you’re still half asleep,” he added with a laugh that didn’t quite hold steady, betraying the tension low in his spine. His hand lingered in the general’s hair - once, twice - calm, measured, controlled. If he left it there too long, he might start to believe this was something soft. Something he could have.

“And I wouldn’t want you regretting anything once that noble sense of propriety kicks in.” The grin returned, crooked and knowing. A beat passed. Then, quieter, more honest, just a thread of vulnerability laced into the velvet of his tone: “But… if that offer was more than just a sleep addled whisper...” his fingers traced down the curve of Jing Yuan’s ear, slow and deliberate, “ - you’d better not fall asleep halfway through.”

Leaning back once more, letting the illusion of ease settle over him like a familiar coat, Aventurine resumed that idle leg bounce beneath the general’s head. His smile stayed - charming, closed, careful.

Waiting.

[aequitaes]

It's not Aurum Alley where he asks the Stoneheart to meet. Tonight, of all nights, it would be an impossibly busy place for either of them to be seen, much less be seen together. So it's a smaller delve, further from the center of everything to do with the Luofu's administrative or business sectors. Quiet, quaint — private. As soon as the other arrives at the restaurant, he's led to a small room in the back- clearly for private or family functions, currently housing only them and a table that, despite the volume of food placed upon it, still feels too small for the room. Jǐng Yuán gives not a single hint as to why here, or why tonight- only smiles warmly and pours Aventurine a drink as he settles, the fine embroidery on the pale, mist-blue silk he wears shimmering iridescent in the light. Where the chairs might usually be arranged opposite, they are set, instead, side by side, and the general wastes no opportunity to offer him bites of things he thinks Aventurine might enjoy. Despite the formality of it all, however, there is a very faint undertone of something like hesitation. Expectation, perhaps. He says nothing explicitly- doesn't think he has to- but he watches Aventurine all the while, as if assuring he's enjoying himself. At some point, when the meal is done, he offers a hand, tilting his head toward a half-hidden door, and when Aventurine takes it, leads him out to a small balcony, the span of the ship's artificial night sky sprawled high and open overhead. Another drink, another seat-this time at a low table on the balcony, amidst a nest of pillows and blankets. And on the table, between their cups, a small curve of gold and jade- just big enough to be slipped on along the edge of an ear and hold fast without needing to be pierced through. Though Jǐng Yuán doesn't offer it directly, it's clear that's what it is, should he choose to accept it.

𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃, an invitation beyond office hours, though he’d hardly been discreet in his hints about wanting the General’s company in a more private setting. Still, when he arrives at the address given, there’s a sharper gleam to his eyes, brightening further at the decor—until he spots him. Alone. Waiting. In a room set aside just for them. His smile curves wider, though he makes no comment on it, no sly remark to suggest it might be more than what it was. He simply allows himself the small relief of being away from watching eyes and listening ears. As his coat slips from his shoulders to the back of the chair, a piece of his facade seems to fall with it.

Here, he didn’t have to be Aventurine the IPC representative. Not entirely. His mask wouldn’t vanish altogether—he wasn’t about to let Jing Yuan think he’d cracked the code, played the winning hand, glimpsed what lay beneath. Not yet. But as he takes his seat beside him, his gaze lingers, measuring the General’s figure, how every line of silk flatters him while still leaving freedom enough for sudden movement, for battle. Truly, the man was a sight. Aventurine had said as much before, and never subtly, either. "You do realise you make it awfully hard for anyone else to compete, don’t you?" he adds lightly, lips quirking.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with fine meals and better wine—though never so much as to lose himself to them, only enough to savour flavour and company. Even so, the effort here didn’t escape his notice. He kept waiting for the catch, the hook hidden beneath the indulgence. But it never came. Perhaps, just perhaps, things were exactly as he’d imagined them. Perhaps Jing Yuan did feel the same. Though the blond was a long way from giving shape to that word—feelings—where the man was concerned.

His thoughts drift, fingertips idly tapping against the rim of his glass before draining the last. And then—an extended hand. He accepts without hesitation, sliding his fingers between the General’s in quiet boldness, wordless, testing the waters. Jing Yuan’s hand was larger than his, stronger too, though Aventurine had no need of anyone’s protection. He would deny such a thing to his dying breath. Yet… here, with him, he felt safe.

The wine flowed, as did comfort. He found himself reclining, legs set to the side, body angled closer. A faint heat brushed the tips of his ears, masked by moonlight—though the smile he wore was unhidden. Sparrow like, his eyes caught the gleam of something laid before him.

"That’s a bit sparkly for you, General," he mused, leaning forward to pluck it up. Turning it in his fingers, he caught the deliberate choice of hues, the subtle interplay of colour. Not an accident. Not coincidence. His lips parted, and for the first time in longer than he’d admit, the Stoneheart was left wordless. "Careful now—people will think you’re trying to spoil me. And we wouldn’t want that kind of rumour making the rounds."

When he slips the curve of jade and gold onto his ear, it fits as though it had always been meant for him. Aventurine’s smile softens into something warm, almost unguarded. He leans in, brushing a single kiss beneath the corner of Jing Yuan’s eye—wordless, deliberate, and all the thanks he’s willing to give.

[aequitaes]

"You really are impossible," Jǐng Yuán murmurs, shaking his head and looking down at Aventurine in clear disapproval. "If you won't listen to reason, then I'll simply have to make you leave well enough alone myself." One might think that it's a threat, but it's really just exhaustion. The Stoneheart's stubborn refusal to not interfere in a situation between him and one of the other IPC members aboard the Luófú really is just too much. So the general does as he's been thinking about doing for quite some time now.

He bends down, curls an arm around Aventurine's middle and lifts.

When the man is fully on his shoulder, he turns and leaves the room- thankfully just the two of them as Jǐng Yuán had taken him aside for this… 'discussion'- heading for the rooms he knows the Stoneheart occupies during his stay.

"I can handle this much 'negotiation' on my own. Next time you interfere, however, it won't be your chambers I drop you off in."

"I’m not impossible." His arms folded across his chest, the stance stubborn enough to rival the General’s own. "You just don’t like being wrong. I don’t choose to be difficult—" a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, " —but you’re not going to change my mind on this one. I had good reason to intervene."

The tone wasn’t quite annoyance, more like the low grade irritation of an itch you couldn’t reach. A quiet sigh left him, the kind that said they’d circle this argument for hours and still come out exactly where they started. And just as he opened his mouth to push the matter further, the floor seemed to tilt.

He blinked, startled only for a fraction of a second before realising Jing Yuan had lifted him — effortlessly. Too effortlessly. Aventurine was light, yes, but the man carried him as if he weighed nothing at all. "So what, the great plan is room arrest now?" His voice was dry, but there was no fight in the way he rested against the broad shoulder. "We’ll see how long that lasts."

He didn’t shove him away. In fact, after a moment, he seemed to settle into the position, letting the General have his five minutes of self-satisfied triumph. A glance down the line of his arm, a sly arch of his brow. "Oh? Will it be your room?" The smirk deepened, warmer now, as if the idea amused him far more than it should have.

Truth be told, he suspected this wouldn’t be the last time Jing Yuan decided to haul him off like this—and, inconveniently enough, Aventurine found he didn’t entirely mind.

[aequitaes]

[ TXT ] : i'll leave that up to your imagination. (you know who for-)

[TXT]: xiǎo shīzi 🦁: Oho, you're going to leave me guessing, huh?

[TXT]: xiǎo shīzi 🦁: Alright, I'll bite. I do like a good game..

five minutes later.

[TXT]: xiǎo shīzi 🦁: Come to think of it... I do believe you owe me after that last favour, can I cash that in?

[aequitaes]

𝐀𝐇, 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃— a smug little smile tugging at his lips — only for the notion to slip away again, and it took every ounce of will not to let a pout betray him. He fancied himself a comedian, clearly, though Aventurine didn’t miss the warning coiled beneath the humour. He wasn’t naive. Still, the fact he’d struck a chord delighted him more than he’d ever admit; there was a certain thrill in worming beneath someone’s composure, in holding their attention this long. And with a man of such standing? That was a highlight of his visit indeed, for to rattle the seat of command itself, even for a heartbeat, meant his presence could not be dismissed.

He was about to follow the general’s lead when the guards pressed in, armour clattering far too eagerly for his taste. "No need to be so hasty…" he drawled, sparing them only the briefest glance. Their presence hardly concerned him; he was arrogant enough to know he could handle them if pressed. But he hadn’t come here for a brawl, not when words promised sharper victories. So he fell into step a few paces behind Jing Yuan, gaze almost entranced — not by obedience, but by the strangeness of this arena, where words cut deeper than blades.

"The… Seat of Divine Foresight?" he echoed, one brow arching as his eyes flicked from the guards to the back of the general’s head. "Is that your throne?" The words were light, teasing, but his interest genuine; this was no place to be trading delicate matters where ears might linger, and Aventurine had no desire to be reduced to gossip fodder by the masses. His attention slid briefly to the artefacts showcased along the hall — statues, scrolls, weaponry sealed in glass — memorising them with idle precision, each detail stored away like chips on a table. Outwardly, he played it off as simple appreciation of the décor, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed him as ever calculating.

Then, to the guards: "Easy, boys. No need to manhandle me." A beat — a sly curl of his lips. "Unless, of course, the general insists on doing so himself." A low chuckle followed, airy, as if to brush it away, his coat still demanding space as he moved — wholly unshaken, unwilling to let their presence diminish him in the slightest. Even when surrounded, Aventurine carried himself as though he were the one leading the procession.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐒, 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒, 𝐑𝐄𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒, Jǐng Yuán feels himself actively begin to stifle. It will be a long battle, with this clever-tongued little beast; one more harrowing to the warrior he prefers to be, leaning heavily on the politician he's forced to become. While outmaneuvering opponents is always a means of entertainment he relishes, it is not one he prefers to have to manage in this way. His tactics are best suited for the battlefield, but he knows well enough how aggression and concession work on different battlefields as well.

Smile benign, Jǐng Yuán tilts his head, as if amused.

"You consider having to be informed of your tactics special treatment?" He questions, seemingly amused. "Please, rest assured- I am simply a man who prefers to be informed." Some of the worst decisions are made in ignorance, in lacking the knowledge or understanding of an opponent that might save one from a critical misstep. With the fact that some part of the IPC, even if not Aventurine's own department, is working with Borisin genetic material, missteps are not something he or the Alliance can afford.

No matter how it may frustrate him to be cordial, with the situation so fresh in mind.

"Shall we change venues then?" He asks, just as kind, just as polite, the honeyed edge of his voice sharpened as he dips just the barest bit closer. "How does the Shackling Prison sound?"

Though the threat is real, he laughs as though it's nothing more than a joke, straightening with his hands clasped behind his back now, expression almost jovial.

(Only 'almost', though.)

"As you've said, this is hardly the place for talking business," he agrees, and begins to move past Aventurine, gesturing for two of the guards to begin flanking the Stoneheart as he begins to step toward the exit. His stride is long, his posture firm and unyielding, even as he turns his head to peer at Aventurine over his shoulder. "We'll be taking this to the Seat of Divine Foresight. Please do not try and go anywhere else, else the Cloud Knights will be forced to apprehend you."

[aequitaes]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏 𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄 — not quite a groan, not quite a growl, but something caught between disappointment and craving. A breath of frustration escapes him as if he might chase the kiss he’s just been denied, as if he weren’t already betraying himself in the smallest ways. That was unlike him - the wanting. The aching. 

He wasn’t supposed to crave.

Aventurine, the picture of poise and self-mastery, rarely wanted anything he couldn’t orchestrate into his own lap. But this? The warmth of Jing Yuan’s breath still ghosting across his lips, the maddening promise in his words, the offer of more should he ask? It stirred something deeper - not just lust, but the dangerous temptation of surrendering control.

He exhales hard, a soft huff through his nose that displaces a stray strand of blond hair falling across his brow. Magenta-cyan eyes fix on golden ones, bold, unwavering. It’s a game of who will blink first, who will give in - a wager laid bare in a single, unspoken glance.

And this time?

Aventurine folds first -- though it is anything but defeat.

“Well,” he drawls, his voice lowered like a velvet rope tightening, curling in the softest corners of syllables, “I could think of several places that would offer a superior vantage point…” The implication lingers, honey-slick and slow. “But the one that presently calls to mind…”

He leans just a touch closer, the edge of his smile dangerous in its invitation, his gloved fingers brushing idly against the edge of the General’s collar in a manner that could be read as either flirtation or calculation - or, more likely, both “...is somewhere far more comfortable.”

A pause, deliberate.

“Beneath you.”

"𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄, 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐑 more unobstructed view than you'd get at this particular moment." His look says that he really does know what Aventurine is up to, and he's deeply amused by it. "And it would hardly be fair if I were the only one able to look to my heart's content. Threfore..."

He pauses at the touch, for no reason other than he wants to enjoy it, fleeting as it is, despite the barrier that remains between them.

(Jǐng Yuán isn't so greedy that he'll push for more than that.)

Then he's halted again by those eyes, the flicker of surprise in them even as his own show nothing, he knows, but his own desire to play the game so long as he's allowed- though he'll likely flout Aventurine's carefully-maintained rules all the while. He can't be blamed, he thinks, as he leans up to brush his mouth across his, slow and soft and almost-chaste. Anyone would try and find a loophole, to get a little more of him.

"...as I was saying," he finally continues when he pulls back, laughter low and warm. "If you wish for a particular view then... all you have to do is ask."

[aequitaes]

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄. Not quite a crack in the facade, no — Jing Yuan was far too practiced for that. But there was a subtle shift, a tightening at the seams. A warning, perhaps, or a promise. Aventurine couldn’t quite tell which, and that was what made it all the more intriguing. He lived for this — the push and pull, the slow dance of masked intentions. And the General, for all his serene poise, was finally beginning to reveal the teeth behind the smile.

He lets out a soft, breathy chuckle, nothing too loud, but laced with just enough insolence to test the current. “Oh, but I’m flattered,” he muses, arms folded loose across his chest in a mirror of Jing Yuan’s own posture, though it leans more toward mockery than mirroring — a deliberate echo made just off-key enough to agitate. “To think, the great Arbiter General has gone to such lengths for me. One might mistake it for special treatment.”

A slow blink. A tilt of his head. The kind of look someone gives when they’re not sure if they’re about to be kissed or killed — and frankly, Aventurine would find either option wildly entertaining.

“You say you’re not here to barter, yet you still offer me terms,” he continues, stepping into the space between them with careful calculation, like a man approaching a sleeping lion. “Accept or leave — such strong language. But you see, General…” He lets the title linger, coating it in velvet and venom alike, “when you threaten a Stoneheart, you’d best be certain they aren’t already exactly where they want to be.”

He raises a single gloved hand, index finger ticking lightly against his temple. “The IPC didn’t send me here without cause — and I assure you, our interests, however cloaked, do have their overlap.” A beat. His expression flickers — briefly — toward something serious, something almost genuine, before it’s gone again beneath the glint of a smile. “But let’s not bore ourselves with cooperation just yet.”

A pause. Then he leans back slightly, one foot sliding behind the other in a practiced, elegant adjustment, as though this were a stage and he were merely shifting to find the better spotlight. “I’ll hear your offer,” he says smoothly, like a connoisseur accepting wine before the poison's been named. “Whether I accept it…” He grins, sharp as glass, “...well, that depends entirely on how persuasive you can be.”

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒, 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 never the type to prefer a desk over a war zone. All this careful verbal maneuvering that could be solved with a simple threat, if only the Alliance would allow it. They already hunt one Aeon and its followers, what does it matter if they add another set to their list of prey? Jǐng Yuán may not always agree with the methods of the hunt, but its end goals are almost always worthwhile.

(He should not entertain these thoughts so casually, and yet — )

Lazily, his eyes follow the Stoneheart's movements- slight, coy little motions, made in part to entice, and in part to distract. While he knows the man is more likely than not attempting to think of a way to find a gap in his metaphorical armor through which he may slip a knife, Jǐng Yuán remains unmoved. What, after all, is one more in the face of his ship's future safety? In the face of the Alliance's future victories? He will riddle himself with blades, if that's what it takes to ensure his people do not suffer unnecessarily. His mouth curls again, slower, harder, the glint in his eyes bordering on cutting.

"Ah, I appear to have misspoken and thus made my point improperly. I apologize," he hums, and it's in the tone of someone attempting to be indulgent but rapidly losing the desire to do so. Like a parent with a misbehaving child, or a superior with a stubborn subordinate. And while the Stoneheart is technically neither of those things, the general won't pretend that isn't how he feels at the moment. "When I said 'negotiation', I did not mean to imply that I was willing to barter."

Honestly, the time for making deals had long since passed, even before Aventurine set foot on the Luófú.

"What I meant was that I would make you an offer, and you would either accept it or you would leave. Much like yourself, my methods need not necessarily be the Alliance's, and I am more than willing to do things that my superiors may... disapprove of in order to get results, which it appears we have in common." His own hand lifts from where it's been crossed across his chest, gesturing airily before fingertips settle lightly against his chin, one just-shy of tapping against his bottom lip.

Aventurine may not be his opponent, but neither is Jǐng Yuán his ally.

Therefore, the winner of this match may simply be the one least afraid to make those with power over them exert that power. Jǐng Yuán does not believe that will be himself.

"If these terms do not, as you've said, 'suit you', then I fear I can offer no further leniency."

[aequitaes]

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 be the only one allowed to enjoy himself? Surely there had to be some arrangement more... mutually rewarding.

A quiet laugh curls from Aventurine’s throat as his chin is guided by deft fingers - so easily, too easily. He was far too accustomed to steering the game, yet here he was, letting Jing Yuan lead. And somehow, it didn’t feel like losing.

“Mm... I’m not so sure,” he hums, voice low and amused. “I can think of a few positions that would benefit both parties. And you are, after all, a man of fairness. Unless, of course…” A smirk tugs at his lips, lazy and warm. “You’re admitting to being selfish.”

He reaches for the hand beneath his chin - the one that had so easily pulled him closer - and cradles it in his own gloved grasp. His thumb runs over Jing Yuan’s knuckles with slow, deliberate intent, the silk of leather brushing against bare skin. Were it not for the gloves, it might've been something far more romantic. But perhaps, in its own way, the barrier made the gesture more intriguing - a reminder of masks not yet shed.

His eyes flick down - magenta-cyan, all smoke and softened amusement - but there’s something almost boyish beneath it. A glimmer of innocence, a flicker of surprise at how quickly the game’s rules had changed. And perhaps, if Jing Yuan dares meet that gaze - even for a moment - Aventurine might just lean forward and kiss him.

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐖, 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐆 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 closer to approximating a smirk softens. There's a degree of fondness that seeps into the expression, unbidden, as the General watches him, as he hears that catch to his voice, sees the soft warmth flushing the tips of his ears. There's no doubting it; he's undeniably endeared.

My, what trouble.

"Perhaps, then, you should consider continuing to do so." Though he's almost certain even the suggestion has Aventurine eager to misbehave. Awaiting his response with bated breath, the General can't help the laugh that snaps out of him, low and sudden. He knows exactly what he intended, suddenly, and only shakes his head in mild disbelief.

"What if," he counters, grateful that his hair hides the warmth in his own ears at the teasing nickname in return, "I much prefer having this view instead?" His free hand lifts, fingertips trailing the underside of Aventurine's chin. "One would be hard-pressed to find one better, I think."