Ann
The bench rattles as Ann throws herself down onto it with a sigh that Akira can feel through the wood, and he looks up from his phone as she slumps sideways against his arm.
"You haven't been watching at all," she accuses, but she's smiling as she says it. She blows a loose strand of hair out of her face.
"I can barely even see you through the swarm of …" He trails off, instead gesturing vaguely to the cameramen, the wardrobe specialists, the makeup artists, the lighting crew, and everyone else standing between where he's sitting and where Ann was being photographed. Dropping his phone into his lap, he holds his hands up like a picture frame in a gesture that would do Yusuke proud, framing the crowd. "Ah, yes. You would have looked amazing from back here."
As usual, he'll have to wait until the magazine is published to actually see what she looked like.
She huffs out a laugh and swats him with her knuckles before shoving herself back upright, to instead bonelessly slump back against the bench. "I'm beat."
Akira picks his phone back up to check the time.
"Too beat for dinner?"
Ann scoffs and shakes her head. "Never."
Even so, she waits until Akira is standing to hold her arms up expectantly. He catches her around both wrists and tugs her to her feet, and she uses the momentum to fling herself at him, knees latched around his hips and arms around the back of his neck. Akira catches his balance with the ease of someone long accustomed to the sudden weight, tipping his head back so he doesn't wind up bashing their faces together.
Arms lax at his sides, he informs the clouds, "I'm not carrying you like this."
"Pretty please?" She scritches her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.
"I didn't say I wouldn't carry you," he amends, "but not like a baby sling."
"Fine, fine," Ann agrees reluctantly, letting her feet touch the ground once again but keeping her arms looped around the back of his neck, standing on her toes to do so. With no other options, Akira bends his knees and shuffles in a circle. She barely waits for him to stop moving before she climbs him like some sort of spider monkey again, legs around his middle before he's even fully straightened back up. Short of a crepe sale appearing in front of them, he knows she's not going anywhere, but he reaches back to link his hands together beneath her thighs either way.
He takes his time as he heads back to his motorcycle, and she seems content to let him mosey along. She's been in Paris for a while, and she's not going to be home for too long before she's off to Milan and then Barcelona and then the United States. They'll take as much time as they can.