[Armin is plenty smooth, far as Aubrey’s concerned. He rubs his thumb over her palm as if to leave his own mark—not at all burning or fraught, but loving all the same.

[Time for her face’s hue to rival his again.] You know, it… didn’t have to go both ways. [She’s not complaining, though. Aubrey’s other hand reaches for Armin’s, clasping it gently.]

I like this. Just spending time with you.