[ Her vision, which had chased after Aki's eyes when they left for the sheets, boomeranged back into place when she felt her stare on her again, fills with this strange scene before her. Fills with an even stranger emotion, sweeping down the ripples of her back. Lingering on that scar, Denji's scar. Up again. She always looks like that. The type of hardened that competes with a cliff face, a grave stone — but everything turns to a softer substance in the end, with the right amount of heat. Concentrated effort. Ash, dust. A powdery snow. Denji knows that's true of Aki as well.

Message received. ]

Fine.

[ Defeated, Denji slowly sets the pillow back down, plopping on the edge of the bed, one leg still hanging off. She could scoot in, give her room to lay down, but she's never been in the business of making things easy. Her arms stretch out, making a grabbing motion at Aki with both hands. ]

Geez, is there a window open in here? I didn't even say anything bad and you're actin' so frosty. [ …Apparently, also not in the business of waiting, Denji leans forward to slip her hands under Aki's knees, the back of her toned thighs. ] Come warm up with me.