He received her affection and felt it reach outward from where her lips touched. It wasn't unheard of that he'd get a kiss or a peck, they were twined in some way, but it wasn't commonplace either. It had left him somewhat starving for skin, living here. With the pretty, lifted bones in his face, and his clear eyes in the artist's expression, he'd been spoiled with nearness almost whenever he wanted it before her. It seemed out of place now, given their connection, and it put a weight on his heart despite his rationalizations about the needs of the human animal every time he escaped into another body.<br/><br/>He was looking forward to it not being a problem today. After all, how could there be trifle if he was being a perfect gentleman, and she might be part whore for him - she had been Madonna enough. Iris was beautiful, and that was a problem. Her shapes whispered to him under her unflattering clothes. The affection they felt was also a kind of fuel to this line of trouble. Mostly, he'd be held up in his head, deciphering his heart about his next expression, but he was a person underneath his inspiration, too.<br/><br/>"I had as many as I meant to, Iris." he replied with good humor as he touched her cheek. Her dress was troublesome. His hand examined it thoroughly on it way down to her hip, to bring her in closer. Dark eyes read the beauty of her face at null distance. A burst of his more volatile spirit had him pick her up and spin her against him. He'd been a beast among more sophisticated men, after all - aloof craftsman of words against their talk of the moods of the market - and only followed convention when convention followed him.<br/><br/>Their home was simple, though nestled close to the blocks where his displays were, and he'd come to know it well over these months. His nights spent under city lights were fewer, exchanged for hardwood walks and quiet hours sitting on the floor in the kitchen in the undulating light of passing cars. He could enjoy the roil of his own emotions then, even if those waves would swim the corridors and lash up against her bedroom door, all the same.<br/><br/>He was moving them that way now, spinning her while holding her against him every few steps. Playful, ragged wolf. He put his eyebrow to her forehead so he could sense some of her heat. It was delightful, and all that could think about, most of his day. He stopped by a wall and let her back rest on it as he wrapped fingers around her chin so he could tip her head back against the surface, too. The gesture was meant to be tender, but some of his poisonous frustrations applied more tension than he meant. After all, adoring someone is hating them a little, too. "Are you my friend, Iris?" he asked gingerly before seeking to kiss her, holding her up simply by his hips to hers. "Are we going to play games together?"