Jael wouldn't say it, but she won't deny the warmth or the gravity. She won't say no. She wasn't going to say that she was holding her breath, hoping she hadn't overstepped, hoping she hadn't overshot. Gilgamesh closed the distance between them, and she could let go the breath she wouldn't admit she'd been holding. He loomed over her, he filled her periphery on every edge. Should have it felt more dangerous than it was? Was Jael in the mouth of a dragon? Hell, if she was, she had been this whole time. Though perhaps it was tempting fate, what else was new?
He won't lay his cards on the table, and maybe that was for the best. There's a glint, a glimmer to the girl. A little touch to her head and his tone of voice, gentle... why does he need to sound quite so tender? Jael has never been able to give heed to the ache in her chest, even when it flickers to life. Why now? The concussion or the drugs. Maybe he'd drugged her. It wouldn't even be in the top three of worst things to happen that day, and they did something to dull the pain in her hip.
Hip shifting by degrees, Jael allows herself even closer to the large, warm figure of the man beside her. Head on her own paws, though she's arched her neck some to watch him. Watch what he does. It leaves her more than a bit exposed as well, but what Gil chose to do with that... well, that was on him. "I heard once that you aren't supposed to sleep for a while after you get a concussion," the jury was still out on whether or not that was truth, but then, what did Jael know about healing? She could use an old wives' tale to her benefit, and ignorance could be bliss.
Professor
