[Of all things you could accuse Fukawa of being, subtle will never be one of them. If she had enough breast to jiggle she'd surely be working it.

Nikolai is spared such a gaudy display for now, she can't do much fawning from the floor. That offered hand is accepted with the cinematic grace of a big Hollywood romance. She's lost in his eyes as she rises, birds chirping and harps strumming from somewhere beyond. Those golden curls are the perfect level of tousled. It's like he hopped out of a dream she once had.

They'd have such beautiful children together.]

Oh, well, haha... [Fukawa rights herself on jellied legs. Her cheeks are blooming redder by the second.] To be killed by a hand like yours... I'd g-gladly accept such a death...

[Wait he'd introduced himself.]

I'm Fukawa! [She blurts out. Too loud. She shrinks a little and glances away.] F-Fukawa Toko.