Well, she'll give credit where credit is due; she's better at holding out than she thought she would be!
"Congratulations, Dia. Not bad at all."
But in spite of that, Mari can physically see how hard Dia is struggling, try as she might to try and play it cool here; had Mari, perhaps, said three minutes, or maybe even two and a half, she wonders if poor Dia would've been able to keep it up, or, at least, if she could have, how much worse her expression would be. As it stands now, her warm face and breathless expression will have to be enough for now, only because...
Well, a deal is a deal. And one can call Mari many, many things, but, she at least prides herself on being a girl of her word, when it comes to competitions. It doesn't mean she won't be a bit of a sore loser, in her own way, but, she can admit when she's been defeated...for the moment.
"I guess I underestimated you a bit, my love...I should have known a little better than to think you'd crack from just that." She isn't quite aware of how red in the face she is herself, or how comfortable she is in this position to the point where she can't quite bring herself to straighten herself out. It's only the obnoxious whistle of the tea kettle (vaffanculo, she wishes she could say to it--) that makes her move to reach it, her pointer finger making its way under Dia's chin and to her lips while she stands back up straight. Her finger holds position for a few seconds, just long enough that Dia'll feel its absence, once she takes it away. "But, you did beat me, fair and square. So, we'll do it your way. No kisses, no cuddles, just...boring, stuffy, pamphlets, right~?"
So, this is her new game, then. Just because she lost the first battle doesn't mean the war is over; no, right now, Mari knows she's planted a seed that will take root and turn into something truly, truly incredible--it's just a matter of giving it some time to grow. After all, she thinks to herself with that sickening Ohara confidence, she knows she has Dia hot and bothered now. The only reason the poor girl is even suggesting pamphlets now is because of that stubborn pride of hers, but, one look at Dia's face says that's not really what she wants to do, not even a little bit.
And even if Dia, perchance, does decide to be honest with her about what she wants...well, Mari doesn't have to make giving it to her easy, now that they're insisting on moving forward with this little charade of theirs. And the night is still oh so very young. She'll hold the idea over her head like a carrot on a stick that gets yanked away at every possible turn, and drive her crazy, maybe even make her beg a little if she's feeling particularly merciless; give her but a mere taste of what she could have had, if only she had simply gave in and let Mari win here--
But, for now, she'll just giggle and get that tea, giving Dia's butt the slightest of pinches before she walks back over to the stove. There's a little sashay of her hips as she moves, intentional, of course; it's far from the walk of shame one would expect from someone who just suffered an upsetting defeat. This is a little more like, 'Let's start Round 2.'
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Well, she'll give credit where credit is due; she's better at holding out than she thought she would be!
"Congratulations, Dia. Not bad at all."
But in spite of that, Mari can physically see how hard Dia is struggling, try as she might to try and play it cool here; had Mari, perhaps, said three minutes, or maybe even two and a half, she wonders if poor Dia would've been able to keep it up, or, at least, if she could have, how much worse her expression would be. As it stands now, her warm face and breathless expression will have to be enough for now, only because...
Well, a deal is a deal. And one can call Mari many, many things, but, she at least prides herself on being a girl of her word, when it comes to competitions. It doesn't mean she won't be a bit of a sore loser, in her own way, but, she can admit when she's been defeated...for the moment.
"I guess I underestimated you a bit, my love...I should have known a little better than to think you'd crack from just that." She isn't quite aware of how red in the face she is herself, or how comfortable she is in this position to the point where she can't quite bring herself to straighten herself out. It's only the obnoxious whistle of the tea kettle (vaffanculo, she wishes she could say to it--) that makes her move to reach it, her pointer finger making its way under Dia's chin and to her lips while she stands back up straight. Her finger holds position for a few seconds, just long enough that Dia'll feel its absence, once she takes it away. "But, you did beat me, fair and square. So, we'll do it your way. No kisses, no cuddles, just...boring, stuffy, pamphlets, right~?"
So, this is her new game, then. Just because she lost the first battle doesn't mean the war is over; no, right now, Mari knows she's planted a seed that will take root and turn into something truly, truly incredible--it's just a matter of giving it some time to grow. After all, she thinks to herself with that sickening Ohara confidence, she knows she has Dia hot and bothered now. The only reason the poor girl is even suggesting pamphlets now is because of that stubborn pride of hers, but, one look at Dia's face says that's not really what she wants to do, not even a little bit.
And even if Dia, perchance, does decide to be honest with her about what she wants...well, Mari doesn't have to make giving it to her easy, now that they're insisting on moving forward with this little charade of theirs. And the night is still oh so very young. She'll hold the idea over her head like a carrot on a stick that gets yanked away at every possible turn, and drive her crazy, maybe even make her beg a little if she's feeling particularly merciless; give her but a mere taste of what she could have had, if only she had simply gave in and let Mari win here--
But, for now, she'll just giggle and get that tea, giving Dia's butt the slightest of pinches before she walks back over to the stove. There's a little sashay of her hips as she moves, intentional, of course; it's far from the walk of shame one would expect from someone who just suffered an upsetting defeat. This is a little more like, 'Let's start Round 2.'