Loxley wanders his hand up to press over hers, flattening her palm more firmly against where his horn forms into its shape. Not normally something he urges anyone to do, but he'd like, he thinks, Derrica to be perfectly at home in doing so. He thinks there's the danger of being conscientious and uncertain with such things, when it's really just fine.

It's not a gesture that lingers too long, sliding his hand down Derrica's arm. "Right now," Loxley says, but can't quite keep it from being a joke with a laugh hidden in his tone.

Very wishful thinking, on his part.

"Or later," he concedes. He lifts his head, kissing her, as if to get in some of that before they fall back into a pattern with less of it. "Another day."