Welcome to Gaia! ::

The balance of power shifted heavily when the ghoul turned and rose her arms up of her own free will, resting them on his shoulders. His confident, alluring expression melted away, and all that was left was faint surprise, and perhaps just a little longing. Was this what it was like when a ghoul wanted to be nice to you? It was foreign, and just a little frightening, considering all he was trying to do. Sophie was just a little less shy than he'd counted on.

It didn't upset him. He just worried about losing his focus. His cheeks burned, darkening slightly, when he focused on the intricately faceted ruby settled perfectly on her chest. His hand reached out to run a finger along the fault line of the heart.

"It suits you." He murmured, his voice much more genuine than before. But when his eyes looked away from admiring his craftwork on her dark skin, they lifted to meet hers, and an awkward, quiet moment fell upon him. One single moment, where he forgot everything he'd been planning, and just looked into the eyes of a ghoul who was looking back at him - and not through him, instead.

He was sure this was what it was supposed to feel like. But to admit that, meant admitting that he'd been chasing a false dream his entire life. He wasn't quite ready to admit that much foolishness, just yet.

So his cavalier smile returned, and the longing in his eyes died away. "Shall I leave you to it, then?" He offered, while his hands rested firmly on the curve of her hips. "Or do you have further use of me? I am at your disposal, for any need." His eyes strayed down to the fabric strewn on the couch beside them, and his brow furrowed in thought. "Though, if you require my attire at this promenade to be something special, I regret to admit I have nothing to offer you there. My clothing is sparse, and quite unimaginative in nature."

The sight of Sophie lighting up in excitement was surprisingly pleasant. He had already concluded that she created, but to see how much the idea of designing pleased her was a surprise. So even if he wanted to say no, he knew he couldn't. He would never allow himself to stifle creativity. But, that wasn't really an issue - because from the moment she'd asked, he knew he wanted her to.

"You're too kind. I feel blessed to have been given your favor. This all sounds truly exhilarating - I would be proud, and happy to wear something you've created. I trust you implicitly."

That pleading look made the breath he took stutter. "No, really, I am yours to mold." He put his arms out. "Do with me as you will, my rose."

If he'd thought about it for just a minute more, he might have realized that she was going to have to take all of his measurements, and re-considered.. but he didn't.

Sophie was lost in her craft, but as she worked with dedication, Bastion was focused on her. His eyes followed her everywhere she went. The measured gaze of the man was sharp, and refused to relent. When she moved behind him, he turned his head, looking at her from over his shoulder. It was for the best that she was so captivated by her work; his gaze would have likely been unwelcome if noticed.

But she didn't notice. So he watched her. And he learned about her. Simple moves, gestures, shapes. The way the curls of pigtails kept falling forward and impeding her progress. The steadiness of her hands as they measured his arms.

And the unsteadiness as they measured his in-seam.

He shouldn't have smiled when she did it, but she was a professional, just getting her measurements. And he was a gentleman, refusing to allow himself to react to a woman's touch along his sensitive leg. Except for that smile - that, he allowed himself. Because she was blushing, and he rather enjoyed that.

"Don't apologize." He murmured, finally lowering his arms back down to his sides. "I rather enjoyed it. So what else can I do to help?"

Her eyes were on him, now, calculating as they took him in, and he found he rather liked that. "There are many customs for attire. I don't think I'm going to worry about dressing in clan attire, for a school promenade, however, so you're right in assuming I'm not here to represent my clan." He pursed his lips, keeping the smirk down. No, he definitely wasn't here for Medea. "My preferences are usually.. comfort. I don't wear much, often." All he wore now were the loose, silk black pants he found at Neru's, billowing when he moved. And a simple vest, adorned in details of silver. (All very Aladdin-ish, really, not that he knew the reference.) "I don't like any collars, or neck attire.. but otherwise, I'd wear anything your skilled hands placed upon my body." His fingers twitched, as if considering the desire to reach out and take one of her hands, but his confidence had been cracked slightly by the dangerous thoughts that had started to run through his mind, and he wasn't as bold anymore.

Great. That was all he needed. To turn shy around another ghoul.

"I prefer the colors blue, black, silver, and gold - but you should not tailor your work around me. Make me what you want, my rose. I want to complement you in every way."

"An invitation to return?" Bastion's smile pursed coyly, clearly pleased. But the question she posed next stunned him for a moment. "I.. I'm afraid I don't. You wish to send me pictures on a skellyphone?" Bastion had never needed any of the new technology that Halloween blossomed with - until that very moment. It was the moment he decided he needed a skellyphone.

Very, very much.

"I will acquire one. Tomorrow, in fact." He stepped forward boldly, taking her hand within both of his. "I will return. And when I do, you will have to show me how to use it to keep in contact with you. And receive pictures." What kind of pictures did he think he was getting, anyway?! "But now, I have much to do before then."

He brought her hand back up to his lips, but his eyes remained very focused on hers when he kissed it. "I will return. Here, this time tomorrow. With a skellyphone." The edges of his lips tilted up. "Is that all right?"

A date. The sad irony of Sophie's sudden horror at using the phrase with him, was that Bastion had never actually been on a date before. He didn't know what that meant. So he kept her hand in his, when she pulled away, and he pulled her back where she'd been. Then he leaned forward, and kissed her very chastely on the cheek. "You may call it a date, if you wish. I won't tell anyone."

That was the exact limits of his newfound confidence, and he let her hand go, patted her other cheek with his palm, and turned to leave.

"Until tomorrow, my rose. Expect me then."