[ All of his jokes about wanting to be taller aside, Bastien is usually fine with his height. Right now, however, he would trade a whole finger (off his bow hand, at least) to be tall enough to fold By into his chest and be sturdy and comfortable to cry on.
But he does his best with what he has. Stays on his toes, keeps one arm wrapped around By's shoulder, kisses his ear, lightly scratches the hair on the nape of his neck. ]
It will be.
[ His enthusiasm has not waned, but in the face of the hiccuping, it's taken on a more subdued form. He alternates lowering his heels to rock on his feet, side to side—still a bit of dancing, but maybe more soothing in this form. ]
I'm so glad for you, my love. And what timing. I was five days away from meddling.
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But he does his best with what he has. Stays on his toes, keeps one arm wrapped around By's shoulder, kisses his ear, lightly scratches the hair on the nape of his neck. ]
It will be.
[ His enthusiasm has not waned, but in the face of the hiccuping, it's taken on a more subdued form. He alternates lowering his heels to rock on his feet, side to side—still a bit of dancing, but maybe more soothing in this form. ]
I'm so glad for you, my love. And what timing. I was five days away from meddling.