Needlework is careful work, especially at Mulcahy’s age. Mending these socks takes careful focus on details he has to squint to see. This is to say, he doesn’t notice the floating cartoon hearts at all until they drift right in front of his face between him and the needle.
He rears back slightly and goes a little crosseyed; pauses; turns to blink at Gaeta, then smiles. “My, what a flatterer. You don’t even need to use your words to make a man feel special.”
… Goodness, that snowflake has Felix smitten. He’ll admit, the attention is rather nice, even if it’s a… somewhat tense time for it.
“It’s hard to say. All I care to look at is right here.” He reaches over across the distance, playfully pinching Gaeta’s cheek. “Surprise me, if you like.”
With a flick of his finger, the cartoon hearts pop into pink confetti. (The confetti is also heart-shaped. Of course.) Gaeta thinks, then smiles, cupping his hands as he whispers the spell again.
A fine mist rises from his palms, tinted in reds and golds. As the cloud builds, gently swirling around itself like a flower beginning to bud, blue flecks of light wink on inside it. It grows, lifts, spreads its petals, birthing more stars to illuminate it from within. A rose, as someone who lived in space would conceive it.
Just like the hearts, it drifts closer to Francis as if Gaeta were handing him a real rose.
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He rears back slightly and goes a little crosseyed; pauses; turns to blink at Gaeta, then smiles. “My, what a flatterer. You don’t even need to use your words to make a man feel special.”
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"I didn't want to interrupt too much," he says. "Um. Any requests while I'm practicing?"
The offer sounds -- shy, almost.
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“It’s hard to say. All I care to look at is right here.” He reaches over across the distance, playfully pinching Gaeta’s cheek. “Surprise me, if you like.”
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With a flick of his finger, the cartoon hearts pop into pink confetti. (The confetti is also heart-shaped. Of course.) Gaeta thinks, then smiles, cupping his hands as he whispers the spell again.
A fine mist rises from his palms, tinted in reds and golds. As the cloud builds, gently swirling around itself like a flower beginning to bud, blue flecks of light wink on inside it. It grows, lifts, spreads its petals, birthing more stars to illuminate it from within. A rose, as someone who lived in space would conceive it.
Just like the hearts, it drifts closer to Francis as if Gaeta were handing him a real rose.