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Summary
"Pray tell me, why is it that you keep picking me up, dear Crick?" Temenos' tone was teasing but his eyes looked honest.Crick's steps came to a halt and he breathed deeply. Maybe he shouldn't say this, but his loosened tongue didn't care."Uhh, well, one could say that you're easy to pick up," he said. Gods, give him strength. "You're as light as a feather, you know, Temenos. And well, you appear to fit in my arms quite well. It feels right, I suppose." Crick felt very exposed, face as red as always.
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It wasn't like Crick wanted to be constantly picking Temenos up in his arms. It had just spontaneously happened a few times, and who was Crick to tempt the Gods' plan? Besides, it's not like it meant anything, right?
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