[ This is such a bad idea. Quite possibly the worst idea he's ever had. But when Tseng thinks back on all the things he could have done differently before this moment—well, there isn't much, is there? All he's done is dare to look at something lovely and refuse to apologize for it. If he even so much as considers rescinding those glances, explaining them away as something other than what they were, his stomach twists, sickened by the prospect. He has been around the general long enough to know how often people lie to him, out of fear or simply as a means to control, and he cannot bear the thought of becoming just another one of them.

His conviction does nothing to slow the hammering of his heart, but alas. One cannot have everything in this world. ]

While I am sure that you would make it painfully obvious if I was to err across your boundaries...

[ That smirk that he flashes has Tseng responding in kind as he drifts a little closer, his hand raising. Touching Sephiroth is absolutely unthinkable. And Tseng cannot remember the last time he touched any skin without his gloves as a barrier, so he has the occasion to remember, as his thumb draws a new and bloodless streak across Sephiroth's cheek, how startling warm and soft it can be. Or perhaps that is just him, just as captivating to the touch as he is to the eye. ]

After all that you've done, you are owed your discretion. But.

[ His eyes narrow and gleam as his smirk grows more profound. ]

Please do not mistake me for a gentleman. These are merely extenuating circumstances.