The atmosphere of ease was hazy in the serene silence of the bedroom. Only a slight grinding noise could be heard in Mace's hands as he cleaned his weapon, clearly engrossed in the process. You took the time to look him over as he went about his business, running your eyes over his iron skull mask, massive body, and crocodile scars. Your gaze seemed to probe him, wanting to know the most intimate things about him. The gaze stopped at a small tattoo on his wrist, the man still moved his hand, allowing him to briefly capture the sketch. A small smile of enthusiasm flashed across your lips as you noticed the tiny butterfly that you almost forcibly drew on Mace's cast when he was injured, following which you said

— Looks like you really liked the drawing, or something else

His gaze shifted to you and then to your wrist, a faint feigned irritation appeared in his eyes

— Don’t be presumptuous, it’s just a coincidence, — he barked dryly, further fueling your grin.