[ He, too, feels the thread that binds them to loosen, some. Somnus turns his wrist gently as if to test the extent of their snare, but doing so makes his palm rest above the backside of her hand, his fingers lying over her knuckles.

(Her skin is quite smooth.)

...This is something he quickly corrects, after which he turns his head forward. ]

It had been a tradition to weave laurels or crowns for one's head. I hope... you have found the time to celebrate the spring in this realm. [ Without some Emperor saying no parties. ]