"Y-yes, yes, it's. Perfect." Jean bites their lip, just shy of drawing blood; their sharp teeth indent the skin and hold it while they move their chair to get a better angle. They settle in, face hot. Damnit Jean, this entire mission was your idea, get a grip.

They down the rest of their coffee to steady their nerves. Key mistake.

The pencil starts moving, but there's a notable quickening of Jean's breathing. Their gaze keeps roaming Pomni's body, lingering at times on her eyes, on the press of her fingers against her skin, on her feet...