[ Michel hums noncommittally, a corner of his mouth quirking just a little. If he really provokes Ganymede's exasperation again, this peaceful equilibrium won't last long. He hopes that water isn't cold...

Or maybe he should hope that it is. There's no logic or precedent to it. But the simple words, "as long as you want," send a prickle up his spine of — warmth? excitement? — some nameless emotion that only deepens his confused, startled blush. His fingers twitch against Ganymede's back, as if in indecision about whether to draw him closer or let go. ]

I'm fortunate to be fallen on by someone so considerate.

[ And soft to hold. Comfortable. He fits oddly well there, enough that if this had been anything other than happenstance, Michel would have to find himself becoming uneasy again. But when he thinks of how abrupt and aloof Ganymede often is, it strikes him that maybe... Ganymede was more uneasy about what happened than he's admitting? ]

...You're so light that I barely feel it already. In fact, I'm not certain there's anything there. How am I supposed to know if my real-life limbs are going numb>

[ And to demonstrate, he flexes his arm to squish Ganymede just once. ]