Oh, this is nice. A bit terrifying, she's never had anyone want her this much before, never had someone that would kill or die or pull the stars down from the sky for her, but it's not precisely unpleasant. She likes being this important to someone. She's afraid for him and concerned for him and wants to treat him correctly, but oh it's nice to be so wanted. Nice to not have to fear rejection, he just loves her. Nice to not worry about taking it to slow or too fast, because however impatient he might be, clearly he prefers to take this at her pace.

So they can. She can not worry about anything else and just focus on being his air.

And he breathes, he consumes the sight of her, the scent of her, her touch and her voice and her hair and her eyes and her thoughts and attention. He drinks her up, he enjoys every bit of having her around, and he is very, very obviously completely and irrevocably in love with her.

"You have it so bad," she murmurs breathlessly, during a break that's supposed to be helping with that, but isn't really.

"Did you just notice?" he asks in a teasing tone.

"No," she snorts. "It's just the most salient detail when you're kissing me like I'm your everything. It's, it's very noticeable. What's it like? To be that in love?"

He pulls away slightly then furrows his brows, clearly giving the question thought. "It's like home," he eventually settles on. "It's like knowing the place where you belong, the thing you must do, the goal to your journey, all of those. I would not say that the universe revolves around you—it's more like you're as fundamental to it as gravity, and the universe without gravity would just be fundamentally incomplete."

"Oh," she says, blinking. "That sounds like... a lot. You don't seem to think of it as uncomfortable, though?"

"More brain room," he says, tapping his temple. "And it isn't," he continues. "It's not more uncomfortable than gravity. And I am confident you will love me back. We are soul mates. We're meant for each other."

"You're a romantic," declares Yvette, but she snuggles closer and smiles faintly, despite her teasing.

"That's all you, I wasn't like this before!" he accuses.

"I am just so ridiculously perfect that the only possible explanation is 'I am your soul mate'?"

"Yes."

"Well, that. You. That. Well," she stutters, ineffectually. Then she decides that words aren't going well, so she instead kisses him.

He approves of kisses, they are an appropriate substitute for words.

Good. She'd hate to disappoint. She thinks she's really starting to get the hang of this 'kissing' thing. Behold, how she has even figured out how to breathe while kissing! This means the kissing can go on longer.

Eventually:

"S-so what's," she breathes, face flushed and eyelids fluttering, "what's typical vampire life like? In the day to day? I-I get the, the abilities and the bloodthirst and the immortality but like, what. What does your typical life look like?"

He ponders, while looking at her. "It depends on the vampire. I spent the past few decades travelling around, meeting people, seeing new places. I went to dentist school for a while there, too." He shrugs. "Whatever you want."

"Hm. Okay. I don't... quite know what that'll equate to for me, yet. I couldn't stay in Lancaster, maybe even England, so I'd be quitting my job, not that I mind that part. With perfect memory, schooling of some kind seems like it'd be the smartest early investment. Probably something related to biology, to figure out some kind of replacement for blood..." she trails off thoughtfully. "I suppose maybe I do have some idea of what that would equate to me, don't I."

He laughs that musical bell-like laughter that she will presumably also gain when she's a vampire and preternaturally beautiful. "You seem to have it all figured out, from what I can tell."

She snorts. "Not all. Not just yet. Sorry to disappoint."

"You could never, my dear."

"You," she murmurs, before she loses track of her words and gently presses a kiss to his jaw. "You're. That's. You're ridiculously in love with me."

"Took you long enough to notice."

She snorts and raises her eyebrows.

"You're covered in lipstick," she says, instead of that other less nice thing that she could say, along the lines of and whose fault is that? She does not particularly want to say that after having just spent an extended period of time kissing him.

"Do you have a handkerchief or something, I have one in my purse, but it's, um." She pauses, then starts investigating her surroundings. She sort of forgot them, what with the kissing. Her purse is easy to locate; abandoned casually next to the flowers. "Over there, which is very far away." It's really not.

He grabs a handkerchief from his pocket and easily wipes the lipstick off. "Makeup has a hard time sticking to vampire skin," he says, once he's unblemished again.

"Really? That's a pity. But I do suppose the texture would be different." She reaches up to experimentally pat his cheek, then flushes and looks away. The spell of casual physical intimacy seems to have ended, the prospect of immediately resuming kissing him doesn't really appeal, anymore.