[ For once, He Xuan does feel like there might be a bit of warmth rising to his cheeks and he only attributes it to being flustered, more than anything.
As it is, He Xuan is caught without words once more, and while Tartaglia is asking those questions, rhetorical or not, he's gone ahead with stuffing a second bite of the chocolate into his mouth. Sometimes, one is so overcome with such embarrassment that this can only be the next course of action to take.
Evidently, Tartaglia thinks the same. He tries to think of something else to ask about. But, the problem is choosing one at this point, especially with the fact he's still rather flustered.
Still, He Xuan isn't expecting what happens next. Tartaglia's reaction, and then his subsequent words still halt any emerging from him whatsoever. For a split second, hot anger takes over reason, him presuming poison.
If so, he will absolutely bury alive whoever's responsible. Some of that fury is mixed with worry, as he finds himself following the other man into the bathroom. ]
Tartaglia, are you—
[ His logical brain catches up, to an extent. Tartaglia's face had been bright red, now again caught over in what's reflected by the mirror (a smaller one, compared to the one in the room) over the sink. But in the midst of this, his hand had been reaching, fingers liable to reach out for one of the other's arms, before He Xuan realizes he isn't thinking clearly, also arrested by the haze. More mild, in retrospect, for now. ]
This—it's far too late. But, there is nothing to be done. Unless...
[ He lets the implication stand for itself. But does nothing until he hears an answer, despite how inconvenient this is becoming. ]
no subject
As it is, He Xuan is caught without words once more, and while Tartaglia is asking those questions, rhetorical or not, he's gone ahead with stuffing a second bite of the chocolate into his mouth. Sometimes, one is so overcome with such embarrassment that this can only be the next course of action to take.
Evidently, Tartaglia thinks the same. He tries to think of something else to ask about. But, the problem is choosing one at this point, especially with the fact he's still rather flustered.
Still, He Xuan isn't expecting what happens next. Tartaglia's reaction, and then his subsequent words still halt any emerging from him whatsoever. For a split second, hot anger takes over reason, him presuming poison.
If so, he will absolutely bury alive whoever's responsible. Some of that fury is mixed with worry, as he finds himself following the other man into the bathroom. ]
Tartaglia, are you—
[ His logical brain catches up, to an extent. Tartaglia's face had been bright red, now again caught over in what's reflected by the mirror (a smaller one, compared to the one in the room) over the sink. But in the midst of this, his hand had been reaching, fingers liable to reach out for one of the other's arms, before He Xuan realizes he isn't thinking clearly, also arrested by the haze. More mild, in retrospect, for now. ]
This—it's far too late. But, there is nothing to be done. Unless...
[ He lets the implication stand for itself. But does nothing until he hears an answer, despite how inconvenient this is becoming. ]