[ usually elsa blushes a red similar to that of someone lost in the snow. and though he thinks he sees her blush, he doesn't expect her to play along. it'd been on a whim he'd even said it. whenever elsa tends to say anything, he tries to latch onto it to see her smile. ]
[ dropping his pizza on his plate, he reaches for a napkin, wiping his hands before he rubs them on his jeans. he expects her to lean forward then pull away with a laugh, but when she stays where she is, he finds himself leaning forward. gliding his fingers along the slope of her nose, his eyes trace the curve of it. ]
[ his smile is small. he looks up at her hair, expecting to see some snowflakes still there, despite knowing they melt when in the sun. his voice is quiet, ] I think it's gone.
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[ dropping his pizza on his plate, he reaches for a napkin, wiping his hands before he rubs them on his jeans. he expects her to lean forward then pull away with a laugh, but when she stays where she is, he finds himself leaning forward. gliding his fingers along the slope of her nose, his eyes trace the curve of it. ]
[ his smile is small. he looks up at her hair, expecting to see some snowflakes still there, despite knowing they melt when in the sun. his voice is quiet, ] I think it's gone.