Stavanger Bay losing feeling's getting old

only when velen began to stutter did dalia look back towards him. her gaze, expression drenched in concern, fell upon his russet features. her black-tipped ears pressed forwards, patiently awaiting the entire statement. only after he said it, finally, did dalia understand -- not that it was a riddled comment, after all. her face, once again, lit aflame. hot and radiating -- dalia was surprised he hadn't asked her if she smelled smoke. her fur might've singed off if she'd felt any hotter. 

but maybe she looked perfectly normal on the outside. 

wanting to say that his hesitation was only proof that he wanted her to go over there -- after all, he seemed just as nervous as her, for some reason. dalia picked herself up, feeling like a pound of bricks was weighing her down, and moved slowly over to him. only as she pressed herself against him, her shoulder aligned with his own, did dalia realize she hadn't said a word. and, beyond that, she might've even been holding her breathe.

she let it out, a heavy breath of air that she tried to stifle not to seem so stupid. and then, scolding herself for being so weird and silent, she said, "only because i don't want you to catch a cold." and then she gingerly pressed her nose to his neck, trying to be friendly and prod at him, but too nervous and hot to make it seem that way. it came across much milder than that. 

"i... really appreciate this, velen," she then said softly, tucking her chin to her chest, "i know you were on an important mission spying on the sharks of the bay but... i really needed you." or saucy, she wanted to add, she felt too forward -- forward?? as if she was pulling a move!  but... she didn't. you.