[ Carefully, gradually, his touch travels down the length of her spine until it's interrupted by the band of her bra. His free hand rises abortively, ready to settle on her shoulder for support as he dips under the material, laser-focused in his search for any perturbation in her skin. She has her share of scars, of course—because who among them doesn't?—but for obvious reasons Mordin knows to pay them no mind. He glances up at the gesture and then returns to his task, leaning down to assist his study of her lower back. It's the same exploratory pressure the whole way down and in truth it's not at all unpleasant. But then it wasn't meant to be.
At her last statement, he smiles a little while dragging his thumb over the knobs of her vertebrae—careful presses into the muscles surrounding strong bone. ]
Should be kinder to yourself, Shepard. Much more than equipment.
[ It comes out as every other tease of his does, caught in the uncertain space between jibe and sincerity. It's just that there's something knowing in it; a verbal twinkle in his eye. ]
no subject
At her last statement, he smiles a little while dragging his thumb over the knobs of her vertebrae—careful presses into the muscles surrounding strong bone. ]
Should be kinder to yourself, Shepard. Much more than equipment.
[ It comes out as every other tease of his does, caught in the uncertain space between jibe and sincerity. It's just that there's something knowing in it; a verbal twinkle in his eye. ]