[ The places where his fingers dance feels like they ignite sparks across her skin. The thin fabric covering her arms which already feels like it's barely there provides little guard from the feel of his skin barely gracing hers. It's tempting to let out a blissful sigh at the feel of his lips and teeth against her throat, but there's a certain level of control she tries to wrest back. Her fingers dig lightly into his hand.

It's a partially successful attempt. A sharp intake of breath swallows her sigh causing the butterfly to take flight. Unexpectedly however, she catches the scent of woods layered underneath the roses around them. Her mind immediately jolts; it's not pine needles, that much she can be certain of, but it is something she's smelled before. Plenty of people smelled like the woods though. It didn't have to be Sylvain. And besides - even if it was, he was still avoiding her, wasn't he?

Disguising the whirl of questions in her mind as if she's thinking about his question, Hilda takes the moment to collect herself - even if that looks like purposefully rolling her hips against his and chiding him. ]

You're not holding me that tightly.

[ To prove her point she turns so that she's now facing him, encircled in his arms. It's punctuated by one of her hands rising up to trace lightly against the shape of his exposed cheek with a claw. Her golden eyes keep a steady watch on his. ]

If I didn't know any better, I'd feel like you were encouraging me to keep running before we had anymore of that kind of fun.