Her swelling heart hardened, and Saoirse kept a steadfast gaze and composure as he kissed her cheek. She couldn't say... if she liked what he had chosen to do better or worse than her expectations, but at the very least it did not settle poorly in her stomach. Her skin felt rather alive and her thoughts continued to be blurred, and it wasn't until he muttered again that there seemed to be a break through in her haze.
A wave of recognition of their surroundings finally broke through to her conscious, and it startled Saoirse how many senses she had muted, or simply chose to ignore whilst focusing on Howell. The noises, particularly, struck her, and a tight force resonated through her as the sounds of people talking, music playing, and general movement took over her. And then she suddenly felt glad for his subdued response, because while in the moment she may not have realized it, but he seemed to know better than she.
This thought stuck her so heavily, it was overwhelming. How could he possibly...? Her eyes ran back and forth across his face, as she hoped to find an answer written somewhere within his lines and contours. But that was not an answer she was going to figure out quickly, she decided quickly, so she tucked it away for future mulling over.
His hand felt pleasant on her face, and Saoirse had to shake her head lightly to ward off it's effects on her. She blinked slowly.
"No," she concurred, and because it was within her, Saoirse smoothly relaxed and pulled her fingers out from his. It eased her, he eased her, in spite of all the jolts of fear and apprehension, and because of all of that he had--- yes, not here, not now, not tonight.
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