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He has a couple of outstanding obligations before he can, in good conscience, open the shop, he explains as he, likewise, rises.

Looking briefly over his shoulder to offer his arms in the proper places for the sleeves, he shakes his head faintly. He does not....THINK its anything he will need help with. Though if Baikou happens to see Lady Rika before Hitsuga does, if she could perhaps inquire as to whether the product he delivered her was to her liking....?

Baikou is not old, he kibitzes. Not any older than he is, at least, and, while he can fault himself for many things, feeling old is not yet one of them.

And....SPEAKING of feeling things, his breath catches in his throat as the redness, which was just beginning to recede from his cheeks as they'd lapsed into conversation, is back with startling force at her hands fussing about his waist.

That's---no, that's all right-- He falters, turning suddenly. Baikou doesn't need to--

......

Being flustered catches and deadlocks with something else as he finds himself face-to-face with her. That same fluttering strangeness that had caught and halted his mind in the clinic the other day that had been gone just as fleetingly as it had settled in, is back again.

No he's....Hitsuga's sorry, he didn't mean--

The thought trails off lamely, as if he had no idea where to take it.

He--he is not staring, at any rate, his mind stammers. He's--

His train of thought has become more than a bit sticky. Each time he flails at it, seeking answers within it, instead of rattling coherency out of it as he's used to, he only becomes further stuck and prevented from thinking at all.

....and it is this maddening lack of thinking that commands trembling fingertips to brush lightly over the soft brown length of her hair.

The spell that has fallen over him is broken as she dodges his touch, her projections, light and teasing, breaking through the sudden thick mire his thoughts have become, freeing their hold on him.

And it brings with it a certain sort of relief and self-chiding. One that lets him think, in this frame of mind, he HAS been making a big deal of nothing. And seeing specters of doom where there aren't any. That maybe things may have been much better for them these days if he had simply made himself stop thinking for a few minutes.

....but, it occurs to him he really should tell her that he ought to be getting back to work. Now, preferably, before he lets such things run away with his better sense entirely.

He thanks Baikou for her help. sweatdrop He'll just---he'll just--

This would be the part where you step away, idiot...

And he knows that. And would have, had he not made the mistake of meeting her eyes once again, and seeing the odd glow that dances within them. One that compels him to think it would be so easy, right now, just to lean in further...

Barely audible beneath the thunder of his heartbeat in his own ears is a rustle from somewhere behind Baikou. One that could be easily-ignored as noise outside.

You idiot. You. IDIOT.

Where before it had chided him for not being the one to initiate a way out of this awkward situation on his own, now his head continues to scold him with redoubled effort at the touch, her words, then as she begins to draw away, and....

....somehow it's too much for even Hitsuga - worrisome, submissive, Hitsuga - to leave standing. His own hand reaches up to cover hers, preventing her from going. And for one horrible moment, he worries he's only going to continue to stand there staring at Baikou like a fool.

IS this what you want, Hitsuga? Kitsuo's voice pings again within his mind, as it has in the past as a response to....to all of this.

And where, before, a cold wave of nausea and a spike of terror dancing along his spine was the answer, this time....

He leans in, at last, eyes closing, lips brushing hers....

Rustlerustle CRUNK!!!! goes the once-ignoreable-not-so-much-now noise behind Baikou as whatever is shifting its weight now hits the floor.

Fluttering warmth is gone as quickly as it began to stir, replaced by a pain in his lower lip as the impact from her nose jabs it into the bottom shelf of his teeth.

Ow...what?! gonk

Swallowing the faint tang of copper on his tongue, he blinks first at Baikou, and then at whatever she's shrinking away from.

On the floor, a small gray-brown egg twitches and rattles, tiny clawed feet scrabbling at the opening in the shell that the trip to the floor has created for it.

Hitsuga's projections are a blur of questioning bewilderment....with the detectable undertones, perhaps, of frustration as whatever spine has summoned itself in the last span of seconds, retreats back within him to lick its wounds. His eyes remain on the hatching egg.

....what is that...?!

The....cat egg....?

He was unaware they had a cat egg.... sweatdrop

As her fingers linger near his lip, he shies back a bit, his face again, flushing, accompanied by a flurry of humiliation.

Its...its all right. He knows Baikou didn't mean to. He's just....

.....

He makes what seems a visible effort of shrugging it off, sweeping the last shards of the ruined moment under the rug of his mind.

Its all right, he says again, sounding a bit more sure this time. Is Baikou all right....?

His eyes look back to her....and then beyond her to the quickly-disintegrating shell on the floor. The dragoncat, apparently, has no use for 'safe' or 'warm' as it tumbles into the world with a small shrill squeak, nosing blindly at the floor and then lifting its head to sneeze away the last of the shellbits and yolk.

The kitten haphazardly brushes Baikou's offered hand before seeming to take notice of it properly, snuffling her fingers with tiny, quivering nostrils. A toothless mouth wraps itself around the knuckle of her forefinger, chewing futilely for a moment before seeming to decide that, no, it prefers this presence for its comfort rather than as food.

It emits another squeak, this one trailing off into a small shivering purr, as it bumps its head against her palm in acceptance.

Hitsuga watches the exchange from nearby, reaching up to dab lightly at his bottom lip after she had warned him he was bleeding, regarding the small smears of crimson on his fingertips passively.

He'll just....go and fetch the kitten a towel, shall he? And see if he has anything in his kitchen it might like to eat.