[ Ah, Denji really can't see it. The blended spot gives the illusion of waxiness to her hand as Aki spreads out its coverage, hiding even the faint green of her veins. Usually when she's made to stay in place, it kindles this coiling compulsion to retaliate with force (especially, if it's someone creepy holding her down, which, truth be told, applies to most men outside of Makima) or ricochet herself far, far away. But watching Aki and her fingertips, manicured as they are — uniform, and not quite as sharp as her tongue, watching her slowly brush out her skin is…

She dismisses the word that comes to mind with a shake of her head, and, from the way she abruptly freezes, realizes that body language is kind of counter to what she wants. So very quickly, before Aki can make any assumptions: ] U-Uh, yeah! I'm seein' that I don't see it!

…But you're gonna keep going, right? I mean, do I just rub it in the same way you're doin', but on my face? I dunno how, so you better show me that, too.