When she passed him, she reached out and gave his arm a little squeeze.
"You cantankerous old tyrant," she drawled in a whisper, "you do love to haze me around, don't you?
Just to spite you, I'll do it!" She went in and left him standing there, smoking and leaning against the post, calm as the stars above.

But under that surface calm, the heart of Lite Avery was thumping violently.

His arm quivered still under the thrill of Jean's fingers.

Your bottled-up souls are quick to sense the meaning in a tone or a touch; Jean, whether she herself knew it or not, had betrayed an emotion that set Lite's thoughts racing out into a golden future.

He stood there a long while, staring out upon the darkness, his eyes shining..