[His smile warms a little as he turns Aziraphale's hand in his, kissing his palm, directing his next words to the soft skin there, rather than having to let them sit in the air.]
Suppose I wouldn't complain about that.
[Ignore the hint of color on his cheeks.
With another kiss, he releases Aziraphale's hand and goes back to his pleasantly spiked tea.]
no subject
Suppose I wouldn't complain about that.
[Ignore the hint of color on his cheeks.
With another kiss, he releases Aziraphale's hand and goes back to his pleasantly spiked tea.]