Welcome to Gaia! ::

Very subtle. Kyouya let the silence draw out -- one of the perks of being an extremely patient person -- and kept writing as she observed.

After a few minutes, those dark eyes eventually flicked over to meet hers with unerring precision. "Is there something on my face, Miss Jasmine?" he inquired, coolly.

Kyouya tucked his pen into his pocket, and rested his wrists on his knees, over the notebook he'd been writing in. Dark eyes met her bright-blue ones in calm, detached assessment. "Because I find contacts uncomfortable," he said simply. It didn't mean he didn't wear them; their cosplays occasionally demanded it, so he'd put up with them for few hours necessary.

(( No, not for that one, as it didn't seem necessary. I have done it for other ones, always under protest. ))

Even if her fantasies were correct, it was unlikely Kyouya would ever voice such reasons. If she were particularly astute, she might have wondered why he hadn't bothered to have the lasik surgery done, given his family's position and connections.

He tilted his head back to watch her as she went after the wayward petal, stiffening slightly even before her fingers touched his hair. "I could have gotten that," he pointed out lightly enough, though there was a soft, chilly undercurrent beneath the words.

There might have been a fraction of a moment in which Kyouya simply froze to perfect stillness -- and she'd have noticed only because she was touching him at the time. He turned just slightly toward her as her fingers brushed across his ear, and whatever thoughts might have been in his eyes were entirely hidden behind the glint of those earlier-discussed glasses.

"Is that so?" he inquired dryly, allowing her one long moment to take in her work before reaching for the flower and removing it, apparently to inspect it. He studied it briefly, noting its soft fadedness -- the early blooms often fell the fastest, it seemed to him -- and perhaps just a sliver of a smile played in the corners of his mouth.

He knew exactly what his best friend would say in a moment like this. But Kyouya Ootori was not Tamaki Suou, and the Prince's naturally romantic words were not ones that belonged to the cool-type host.

He glanced back up at her, coolly amused -- and clearly noted the release of that pent-up breath. "I'm curious. What do you find beautiful?" A soft emphasis on the "do" was an outlet, if she decided to take it -- a question that could easily shift into generics, rather than specifics of the current moment.

Kyouya was the cool-type host. No major reaction was par for the course, even when presented with something far more forward (consider Lucas and the mistletoe). Or perhaps what she'd sensed was a major reaction, when coming from him. Difficult to say.

He quirked an eyebrow at her answer, considering it thoughtfully. The flower was still held captive in those long fingers. "The world in general?" he repeated, to confirm. "Quite poetic, and yet also rather analytical, ne? Are you a scientist, then, or a poet, Miss Jasmine?"

If he were truly a mind reader, he'd have come firmly down on the scientist side, given that he was the subject of her little experiment. But he was not. He did remember that her stated classes involved international business -- which certainly didn't conform to either of those possibilities. Perhaps the alternate path she'd briefly mentioned tracked down one of those lines, though.

Kyouya, for his own part, seemed more inclined to study the flower for the moment, rather than her face, the wind toying lightly with both it and his hair. But perhaps that empty smile was reflected in her flat tone, as well, because although he didn't look up directly at her, there was a subtle shift in the set of his jaw. "And in three years, will you be just a college student?" he inquired coolly.

That hint of irony earned her a flick of a sideways glance, and a note of dry amusement in Kyouya's voice. "Absolutely riveting. I take it you find this to be the be-all and end-all of your life, a corporate employee?" There was, perhaps, a complex layer of subtlety in that particular question -- but without the context, it would not be the easiest to decipher. "I suppose it's good to be realistic, ne?" There was an edge of soft irony of his own, there.