Both her hands cup the sides of his face when Balthier leans in to kiss her again, keenly aware of the shift in the way their lips meet, something further driven home when his teeth catch her lower lip, making her gasp. Her skin flushes beneath the dressing gown, but she does her best to sound indecisive, rather than breathless when she hums thoughtfully.

"You're on the right track," she whispers, the memory of her birthday flashing through her mind, causing the slowly simmering ache between her thighs to flare. In truth, she didn't think she could be so happy, that this sort of genuine emotion wasn't meant for people born into a life of duty, however privileged it was.