[Oh, he's good. A little too good. He can probably read her like an open book, but it's not as if she's trying very hard to hide it.
Tifa looks at their joined hands, and gives his a squeeze before she slips herself free, taking another step back, and when her gaze meets his again, it's with narrowed, suspicious eyes.]
No, I'm good. I can walk on my own.
[And then, with another curtsy, this one so dramatic with the flourishes of her hand, she gestures to the door.]
After you. I insist.
[He just cheated at a snowball fight! What reason does she have to trust he won't do it again, hm?]
no subject
Tifa looks at their joined hands, and gives his a squeeze before she slips herself free, taking another step back, and when her gaze meets his again, it's with narrowed, suspicious eyes.]
No, I'm good. I can walk on my own.
[And then, with another curtsy, this one so dramatic with the flourishes of her hand, she gestures to the door.]
After you. I insist.
[He just cheated at a snowball fight! What reason does she have to trust he won't do it again, hm?]