Cerulean Cape We wake up with guilt in our bones

Coast, after recovering quickly from his surprise, greeted her accusing attitude with a sly and warming smile. "You," he confessed casually, the silver practically dripping from his tongue. "Or rather: to know you, if you want specifics. But if you had to ask, then I guess I'm not being forward enough." The rogue took a step closer, and another, meeting her shining eyes evenly while his sweeping tail readily graduated in height and tempo. Without an excess of banter, he sought to enter her immediate circle at a pace the red witch would allow.

I won't bite if you don't, he communicated with a shifty brow-dance; making it hard to discern how serious he was being, if at all. He knew it was hard to trust a face like his—as lovely and as terrible as it was—and he didn't shy away from this fact, or try to appear as anyone else to make his company feel better.