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Summary
"You're trying very hard not to spook me, aren't you, Vincent?"
Vincent. Spoken like an endearment. It started two months ago when Alastor looked at him hard for a solid minute then sat back in his chair and said "You may kiss me." No preamble. Just... You may kiss me. And he had.
"Heh- maybe a little... Is it going well?" He bites his lower lip, watching the line of Alastor's shoulders for tension, thumb brushing the back of his hand.
"It's... not going poorly." Alastor concedes.
