[ Oh, finger... For a second, he's extra distracted, watching her digit enter his personal space slackjawed. It'd be easy to nip it. He'd like to nip it. The impulse rises in him, and he almost turns his head properly to catch her— when what he's doing finally hits him. This is bad. He can't bite March? Dan Heng's expression scrunches into a grimace of consternation, the bright pink flush creeping over his cheeks somehow increasing in intensity. His ears, in particular, are bright red, his mouth puckered into a tiny scowl. ]
I... I think I am becoming ill.
[ But he doesn't move his face away from hers, loath to abandon the comforting chill of her nose, her fingers on his cheek. ]
Please be... careful with your fingers... near my mouth...
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I... I think I am becoming ill.
[ But he doesn't move his face away from hers, loath to abandon the comforting chill of her nose, her fingers on his cheek. ]
Please be... careful with your fingers... near my mouth...