She is a seeker of the truth.
So she tells herself time and time again. It is her mission, her purpose to discover, and above all expose the truth. And in this particular case, the first problem's been solved—anyone can attest to Rise's undeniable…pleasantness. But proclaiming the truth, for some reason she can't quite grasp is a task she simply cannot bring herself to undertake. She wants to, tries to, but somehow it's never the right moment, the right words aren't there, there's always some excuse she latches on to just for the sake of avoiding any possible embarrassment.
But maybe not this time.
"Rise-san."
"Yeah?" as if on cue, she's already turned around, in a very Rise-like manner—somehow, everything the idol does is expressive, every action or word communicates something. In a way, Naoto wishes she'd honed that skill herself, but these kinds of things have always deluded her. And in Rise's case, while some part of it was surely practised and developed during her career, it was all very clearly built on a foundation of something that came to her naturally. Charm, perhaps.
Of course, that was not a logical deduction, and not a proper observation for a detective to make.
Nevertheless, Rise was clearly attentive now, and perhaps that would be incentive enough for her not to falter and change the subject for something around the dozenth time. Perhaps.
"You are…" and this is where the predicted construction of the sentence stops, because in truth Rise is far too many things to choose just one. Inside the detective's mind there is an orchestration, a storm that only Rise can cause, but when she opens her mouth to speak all the sounds fall, the song collapses in on itself, and she's left reaching, grasping onto notes among passing notes. She struggles for nowhere near the first time, and where the outline of her certainty ends, she takes another step, and then another. "…stunning," and there it finally is. One word above the diminishing silence. But it isn't enough, it doesn't feel like enough, and out of panic, out of fear to end the sentence in anything other than undeniable factualness – as it was, indeed, the truth – she adds another – "today."
No.
No, that isn't right, that isn't right at all—
"Oh, just today?"
Her tone bears the underlying hint of an accusation, which isn't really necessary, because Naoto is already panicking and internally shouting at herself both at the same time.
"No, that isn't what I—" and in a rush to justify herself, the sentences begin to tumble over each other, her thoughts a maze of domino pieces, falling in the wrong places, at the wrong time. "All the time. But today, you are particularly—"
Her words are once again cut off, this time not by internal turmoil (or at least not only), but by the confusing, telltale sound or Rise's intoxicating giggle.
"I'm just teasing, Naoto-kun."
Her mind makes for an expression of relief and multiple complaints all at once, but settles for none and absolutely cannot manage to process neither due to Rise's act of placing a gentle kiss on her cheek, electrical enough to stun. A few seconds pass in apparent silence, the detective's previous thoughts now completely tangled and unsalvageable.
Tick.
Tock.
Just as the kiss ends, as she thinks she might possibly manage to do the things she needs to do, such as providing Rise with a coherent reply, or avoiding to look at her at all costs, or perhaps remembering to inhale, she is once again stunned by the feeling of the idol's nose nuzzling against her cheek, her words affectionate, calm and nearly quiet, imprinting her warm breath against the skin in a way that felt pleasant just as much as it did terrifying.
"Don't mind it."
Except she did. But she also didn't. And she resolved to investigate how that could be, right after she uncovered the mystery of why and how one's face could turn this impossibly red.