[ If it's more he wants, Noire will offer it without much prompting, and it's almost frightening when she knows the rain is chilling her skin, pressing her hair closer to her head, and everyone else is yelling to each other, blades striking blades, a wyvern's shriek-- all of that, and she knows it exists, but she hears and feels none of it. There's only Morgan, and a kiss she's sinking deeper into. She won't have this in front of her forever-- she'll take it now, selfishly, in between tiny, ragged murmurs of his name. ]
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