[Whistler turns where he's sitting to make the movement more natural, chewing anxiously at the corner of his lip as his fingers settle. They follow the fine curve of her nose to the arch of her brows, and move from their over her forehead and back downward along her temples and drifting further down over her cheeks to her jawline

All the while he seems to be focusing, memorizing silently.]

I don't know how much it means coming from me [he murmurs] but I think you must be very pretty.

[He retracts his hands when he's done, shuffling a bit backwards on the couch to be sure that she feels like she has space.]

Thanks.