"I don't see why not? You must have already lived through major developments, like the invention of the internet. More or less immortal means more or less seeing the evolution of humans. Mankind." Not that Diana isn't human.
James blushes slightly, his smile suddenly shy as he looks away and then back, and he pauses their 'midnight'-stroll to caress Diana's cheek with a crooked finger. Whether he's keeping with the façade of their date or he genuinely believes it, he bites his lip and nods. "Yeah. I think I do. I think you'd have a ship of your own. Something like The Aloadae." Since they captured Ares and she has a disliking towards said God.
He finds himself wanting to kiss Diana in that moment, and yet he refrains, nervous.
Diana stops with him, half turning toward him, into the brush at her cheek and the angle of his body. She finds herself studying his face. The answer warms her—and saddens her, because if they met again, if she met him the long way through time, then he wouldn't know her anymore.
He hopes the alteration in his breathing isn't noticeable to her, but nothing can be done for it, his reaction to her involuntary. James thinks he may have hid it somewhat convincingly when he chuckles softly. "I don't know, she'd be your ship. I just chose the name for reference's sake or some personal connection." A beat, and James adds, "I think Aloadae would be on the larger scale, like the Roci, big enough for a crew to accommodate an Amazon warrior and leader."
Diana's face lights up at his answer, a large ship and a crew.
She thinks she'd like that, at least a few people to travel the stars with her. Friends. She pictures them as people she's known, though it's a bittersweet fantasy. Most will not last that long.
"I think I would like having a ship of my own," she says, leaning closer. A little. Her face angled up. "It sounds very free."
"It is." James doesn't realize how quietly he's speaking, that he's accommodating their proximity, that he's distracted by the way nearby hellfire highlights the angles of Diana's face. Before he can lose the courage that's fueled by her apparent invitation, he slides the arm she's attached to around the small of Diana's back and presses a careful, soft kiss to her lips, ready to break away at a moment's notice if he misread body language.
He didn't misread. The invitation is real. Even so, there's a certain warm flush of surprise when his lips touch hers. The feeling is not unfamiliar, but it's been some time and it's still... sweet. The touch of his hand and the curve of his body.
Diana returns the kiss gently, leaning into it. Her hands light on his chest, smoothing up to his shoulders, and her whole body buzzes with the thrill.
James smiles into the kiss when he feels her hands on him, an involuntary shiver moving through him as Diana shifts them upwards. Fingers splaying, he lightly presses her closer while slipping a hand between coat and body and fitting it against Diana's waist, keeping the kissing at a slow, sensual pace.
Diana responds slowly, easing closer to him. She is not what one would call especially practiced. She's avoided most amorous connections here, especially after a few less consensual encounters.
But there's no panic here, no sense of wrongness.
Instead, it's... sweet. She melts into him, almost smiling into the kiss.
Whereas James used to sleep his way through ship crews until Naomi, and it took months until he felt even remotely alright about pursuing his interest in others, for developing feelings and harboring his little crushes. He's matured since the former playboy days, having no qualms with moving at Diana's pace.
James continues to tenderly kiss her, his hand briefly bunching the fabric at her waist then settling along her curvature. He thinks he should break, to ask whether or not Diana wants to continue this back at the hotel or resume their late-night-can't-sleep walk, but he also finds it difficult to focus on the task when he's enjoying how their mouths fit together, how she tastes and moves against him.
While she doesn't rush, it's also clear Diana isn't shy or insecure. She's... curious, maybe. Learning the differences between the way James kisses and the few other men she's experienced.
Her hand moves to his throat, her thumb passing along his jaw, feeling the stubble.
It's a long moment before she breaks from the kiss to breathe, a pleasant flush in her cheeks.
He doesn't pull away at first but touches their foreheads together while sharing breaths, albeit somewhat heavily. With a demure grin, James gives enough room to read Diana's face, brushing a thumb over tinted cheeks and feeling floaty. Happily accomplished for having caused such a reaction.
"This helped," James murmurs almost quietly enough to be a whisper, like he's afraid to break the spell of cozy affection. "Did you want to head back? I can walk you to your room..." Though he may want more, he isn't narcissistic enough to expect anything.
Diana isn't in a hurry to pull away further. The contact is welcome, as it turns out. For a moment, she lets their foreheads rest against each other. Then, after a few moment, she leans her head on his shoulder, her arms sliding around him.
She'd like to stay like this just a little longer.
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Her head tilts, spilling dark hair over her shoulder.
"Do you think it would be possible we'd meet in that future."
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James blushes slightly, his smile suddenly shy as he looks away and then back, and he pauses their 'midnight'-stroll to caress Diana's cheek with a crooked finger. Whether he's keeping with the façade of their date or he genuinely believes it, he bites his lip and nods. "Yeah. I think I do. I think you'd have a ship of your own. Something like The Aloadae." Since they captured Ares and she has a disliking towards said God.
He finds himself wanting to kiss Diana in that moment, and yet he refrains, nervous.
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Would he?
She smiles slightly.
"Tell me about The Aloadae?"
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She thinks she'd like that, at least a few people to travel the stars with her. Friends. She pictures them as people she's known, though it's a bittersweet fantasy. Most will not last that long.
"I think I would like having a ship of my own," she says, leaning closer. A little. Her face angled up. "It sounds very free."
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Diana returns the kiss gently, leaning into it. Her hands light on his chest, smoothing up to his shoulders, and her whole body buzzes with the thrill.
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But there's no panic here, no sense of wrongness.
Instead, it's... sweet. She melts into him, almost smiling into the kiss.
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James continues to tenderly kiss her, his hand briefly bunching the fabric at her waist then settling along her curvature. He thinks he should break, to ask whether or not Diana wants to continue this back at the hotel or resume their late-night-can't-sleep walk, but he also finds it difficult to focus on the task when he's enjoying how their mouths fit together, how she tastes and moves against him.
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Her hand moves to his throat, her thumb passing along his jaw, feeling the stubble.
It's a long moment before she breaks from the kiss to breathe, a pleasant flush in her cheeks.
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"This helped," James murmurs almost quietly enough to be a whisper, like he's afraid to break the spell of cozy affection. "Did you want to head back? I can walk you to your room..." Though he may want more, he isn't narcissistic enough to expect anything.
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She'd like to stay like this just a little longer.
"I should go back, I suppose."
Fade out ;