[ it's been a long time since it stopped being about marta asking, a question that she never even really posed to begin with, enough said for him to infer that she needed the aid. now every act is an impulse, moving with thinking, like the act of taking care of her has somehow been written into the sleeve as chemically as the customized biology that adheres to his strength and reflexes.

but it doesn't mean he isn't aware of what else might be happening here, how the way he looks at her (the way she looks at him) gives birth to other thoughts that have little to do with simply watching out for her well being. he knows the danger of the distraction; it's landed him in hot water before, feeling without thinking, letting hormonal urges get the best of him, and though he didn't put up a fight when faced with clara that one night, he won't let himself repeat them here.

when she offers him the glass, he takes it and brings it to his lips to shoot back swiftly, downing it like water, like it might burn away the stray desire that curls beneath his skin. ]

That's because you're too polite sometimes. [ he gives a light hiss when he sets the glass down, feeling the liquid sharp as it goes down. when he looks at her again, she doesn't look any different than she did just moments ago. ] You should say what you're really thinking in Spanish. I like when you get meaner in your language.