Gideon's breath catches at the way Felix looks so intently at him. He thinks he can see the selfsame yearning he feels when he's in Felix's presence--when they aren't rising to each others' bait, at least (and even then, he knows, it's there). That same desire to pull him up from the table, go away to a private room, and relearn with eager hands and mouths the things they've lost.

After a moment of staring transfixed at the curve of Felix's lips, Gideon tears his gaze away and shakes his head. He has to draw his hand back from the warmth of Felix's, little as he wants to; they're treading on treacherous ground when they watch each other so. But he still can't resist turning his hand beneath Felix's and clasping it, squeezing for one brief moment before letting go entirely.

He moves his tablet so he can write a reply. No. We aren't.