Dia is weak to biting. She's weak to a truly alarming amount of things, as Mari has made her aware throughout their platonic and romantic relationship both. But feeling the soft pressure of teeth, the wet heat of Mari's mouth bearing down against her lip -- it's enough to have her stomach knitting in a hundred needy knots. And when she pulls back, god, there's nothing Dia wants more than to slam Mari up against the wall and kiss that smug grin clean off her face--

Except for one thing, and that's winning. Nothing is more important than winning.

That's why, even though it feels like swimming against cement, Dia reins herself in. She releases her hold on Mari, even when her fingers ache to cling, and she sets her jaw, though it quivers with the strain. She gives herself a couple seconds to breathe, just to be sure she can make her voice come out even, and finally declares:

"I really do believe it's been two minutes." Slender fingers tuck an errant lock behind her ear, before she folds her arms over her chest, chin angled up. "So why don't you pour us some tea while I fetch the pamphlets?"