Oh. Oh. That's -- that's what Adora sounds like. Catra's eyes widen the smallest amount, her ears pricking forward. There's going to be a lot more of that, she decides instantly. A lot more.

"Some of it's gonna sound weird, but just go with it. Alright?" Catra's breathless, somehow, her voice rasping; but the bright and eager light in her eyes hasn't dimmed at all, and she returns her finger to flick at Adora's nose before sliding her hand to cup her jaw, her fingers curling by her ear. For some reason, doing it makes Catra's heart pound faster, anticipation fluttering in her stomach. She's thought about this way more than makes sense to, thought about catching glimpses of soldiers trading quick presses of their lips as greetings and farewells and in the middle of whispered conversations, thought about the smiles and flushed cheeks they often have afterwards. The thought of seeing that look on Adora makes her chest feel full and she. Wants that. Wants that sort of dopey, soft look to be directed at her. "Don't go flaking or freaking out on me again."