minoade kissy...2!

It's a story he's told many times before - to himself, with his cheek pressed to the hard-packed earth above cold Titan's stone, staring out over the clouds that don't roll and buck, just drift and glide.

Addam might not be the clearest conversationalist, nor the most omnipotent orator, nor even always the most active of audience, but he has a mind for what makes a touching moment and tugs the strings of any hearts that might look on. He's sappy, in other words, and he knows it well.

No, Addam knows how this one goes, and he doesn't need any fancy playwright to tell him. He just needs that very same individual to turn his head, just once, just there--

"What's this, Prince? Am I being cued?"

Addam blushes into the contact, though he doesn't depart from his narrative course. To the lips, there at the corner, in the stern-frowning cracks. That is, he's not sure if Minoth's still frowning his usual, and he should hope that he isn't, but if he is, it's a damned attractive spot, and he likes it.

Minoth cuffs him on the side of the head for his trouble. Addam waits for the quip that must be coming, the rebuffing rebuke and rebuttal.

But Minoth just smiles, turning away. Almost like he's embarrassed - and maybe he is!

"So you do have a heart, after all," crows Addam. "And here I thought you might have been just too cool."

Here he thought-- Minoth gets him back.