She glanced at him, her clear eyes thoughtful. "You're pretty beautiful, you know," she said after a moment, kissing his chin lightly. "I don't know if you're aware."
"You just..." She trailed off for a moment, studying him intensely. "I don't know. You have really silky hair, and these beautiful, warm brown eyes and your smile is just..." A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips. "I don't know if you know this, but your smile is utterly heartbreaking. And your jawline is really nice, and your laugh is just... it's warm and bright, but low and sure." She paused for a moment before taking his hand and studying it, running her thumb over his knuckles. "Your hands... they're a complete mystery to me. You have the build of a soldier and yet you have musician's hands. That's incredible, don't you think? How have these hands managed to stay musician's hands? These hands have held the guns that kill people. They have put people in headlocks. These knuckles have pounded against skin and bone and teeth. Remarkably, though, your hands have defied expectation and remained the hands of a musician. That's beautiful. You're beautiful."
He observed her, his contemplative eyes traveling over her features as a small smile crossed his face. He leaned forward to kiss her, hid hand on her jaw. "You're everything to me, Poppy. Everything."
She gave him a gentle smile, resting her forehead against his. "Everything?" she teased, playing with a lock of his hair. "Even coffee?"
Her hands traveled through his hair before sliding down to rest on his back as she embraced him. “I love you too, Francis.”
Her legs rested on either side of his torso and she gave him a small smile, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Hm. You know, it’s crazy you say that. I think you might be everything to me as well. Isn’t that nice?”
