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Sinclair could feel the burning stares of the other members of the LCB boring into him. A few snickers caught his attention, causing him to turn and see the teasing gazes of Rodion and Gregor, who both seemed so amused at the situation he had caught himself in.
One mechanical hand was gripped tightly around his right shoulder, a quiet humming leaving Faust’s lips as she sat next to him on the bus. Fascia sat next to her, right against the window…pulsing in a way that made him shudder. Sinclair cleared his throat, hoping to at least ease his own nerves a little…and to try and spare his flesh from being bruised.
”M-Miss Faust…your hand is…ahem, a little too tight.”
He moved one of his hands to peel it away, and it had succeeded…only for Faust to quickly take said hand into her own and hold it as if it were a treasure.
”Close physical contact between friends is only natural. You are Faust’s friend, so we must be close.”
Her voice was very matter-of-fact, and the statement drew even more giggles from Rodya and Greg. Heathcliff put a palm on his head, mumbling something about the “Lad being oblivious” under his breath. It seemed that his other coworkers didn’t wish to spare him from the pestering either.
”Oho!!! Indeed, friends must be as close as thy bodies permit, young Sinclair!”
While he doubted that Don meant any harm by the statement…Sinclair could only feel his heart drop. Especially when he noticed that Faust had considered this piece of knowledge…and turned to look at Fascia for a moment.
“Fascia agrees…but Faust wants this friend to herself first.”
With a swift movement, Faust had moved from simply sitting next to Sinclair, to straddling him, her heavy, mechanical weight holding him in place, hands planted on his arms…before promptly sliding down his back, her head landing on one of his shoulders. Sinclair went rigid almost immediately, his entire body stiffening as he looked with nervous, fearful, and entirely embarrassed eyes towards those around him.
”…Shouldn’t we try to stop this? Am I the only one who thinks this is wrong?”
Ishmael had spoken up, standing and preparing to move and interrupt the event…only for the puff of a cigarette and an arm reaching out into her path to stop her.
“N.A.G.I. Look, she’s ready to S.Y.T.B.”
Sure enough, Faust had one hand on Fascia’s hilt…and she had angled her head to stare at the others.
“You won’t take Faust’s friend…Faust will prove it to you.”
Her spare hand grabbed a tight hold of Sinclair’s chin, angling it up to look straight into her eyes. Her grip was strong enough to bruise, yet she didn’t seem to care. She didn’t hesitate a moment longer, pressing her lips to Sinclair’s, whose face erupted in blush. A surge of laughter came from the expected duo…a curious “Ooh” from Don…Heathcliff and Ishmael seemed more shocked than anything. Faust held the kiss for a while, her surprisingly soft (for a prosthetic body) lips locking with his, arms wrapping around his neck, hands tussled in his hair.
Suddenly, the sound of a train horn filled the minds of the sinners, and with a small flash of light, the ID had slipped off of Faust…and instead of Fascia, her zweihander had returned. Even so, she didn’t break from the kiss immediately…even as she stared into Sinclair’s eyes, who seemed to be more comfortable with it being his Faust, instead of a mirror world’s version. Slowly, she pulled away, removing herself from Sinclair’s lap, and stood up. She cleared her throat, picked up her weapon, and moved to the Bus’ aisle, her breathing slightly labored.
”Dante…Faust asks that you please remove identities as soon as possible to prevent such occurrences in the future.”
<R-Right…sorry. Are you alright, Sinclair?>
The boy nodded, though his face was beet red, and he seemed to be in a little bit of a haze, his eyes slightly lidded as he put a finger to his lips.
Faust walked into the back of Mephi, not turning around…though it was easy to see the redness that had overcome her ears, and how she too moved a hand to her lips.
When Faust had disappeared from sight, Rodya leaned towards Sinclair, her eyes gleaming and lips curled into a smug grin.
”Well well, Kiddo~! She’s totally into you, what’re ya gonna do about it? C’mon, you’ve gotta feel the same, right? Riiiight~?”
Gregor pat his companion on the shoulder, clearly picking up on Sinclair’s embarrassment and how it certainly wasn’t a good time to tease him about it…especially in front of everyone.
”Well let him cross that road when he gets there…it wasn’t your fault she…uh…y’know.”
Sinclair didn’t know how to respond. He moved closer to the window, resting his head against it and staring out, pursing his lips. Don had made a move to steal the seat next to him, eager to chat him up and ask about how he felt…but in the same way she had to Ishmael, Ryoshu stopped the girl with a hand, shaking her head slowly…an action to which Heathcliff nodded to.
”Let the lad be for a bit.”