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[ That swipe of his thumb alone made Minho's breath catch in his throat again, more audibly this time, his back straightening a little on reflex alone. To credit what he'd said, though, he didn't look pained, not by his face or his posture. In fact, he huffed a laugh, lowering the flashlight and finally pulling away. ]

Well you're never gonna be a poet, but I guess at least you think I'm pretty.

[ He let his shirt drop down and made to shrug his jacket back on. Best to call this done now, before he did anything stupid. Wouldn't have been the first time, but really, nobody needed anything to be any more complicated than it already was. ]