If you had asked Imogen to recount what had happened that time, the only thing she'd be able to tell you was that it was bizarre. Forgetting the fact that she's never actually been kissed before, plus the fact that Millard was technically invisible, feeling lips on hers but looking at practically thin air was a little disconcerting. For about 5 seconds or so, the girl tried to get over the fact that she felt something pressing on her but can't see anything there at all, before the sensation of Millard's rather warm, very pliant lips were very comfortable where they nestled against hers washed over her, and suddenly everything felt like it was enough, yet not enough.

His warm breath bathed her skin as he pulled back, Imogen blinking partially in surprised, but more because she didn't really know how to react. For a peculiar who had been harbored in a loop for a good 200 years, Imogen wasn't exactly the most well versed at the art of courtship.

Of course, Millard wasn't either, but he was considerably more well read at least.

Had he been visible, one would've seen him blush almost instantly when Imogen's flushed eyes averted their gaze. Remembering instantly that Miss Peregrine had warned them all the moment they started aging to be nice (this had been a private lecture to the boys, and they had never felt more teenager then they did then), Millard launched into a series of apologies which Imogen just as quickly tried to hush. "It's… okay. I… enjoyed it? I guess? Is that even how you say it?" Imogen was beginning to be a chatterbox, a trait Millard was beginning to notice whenever she turned flustered, and that in itself was enough to soothe his potentially bruised ego. She'd only be flustered if she had actually liked him in return, right?

Acting on instinct, he grabbed one of her flailing hands as Imogen tried to explain herself, pulling so it now rested on his knee and leaned in to brush a chaste peck on her cheek. The contact had her instantly quiet down again, and Millard chuckled when he saw the rising flush once again. "No need for explanations, Gen. I like you, so we're even."

"Even?"

"Very even." He replied, pressing yet another kiss on the back of the hand he held, and grinned at her rather embarrassed look.

They rose early the next morning, not at all certain how long it'd take to scale the sides and not entirely excited at maybe being caught halfway when night fell. Emma made sure they were all secured to the rope Imogen had drew up, and started Enoch up first, before she followed suit. Horace went after with Jacob right under, which left Imogen and Millard right at the end. Luckily for Imogen, she had a couple of changes of pants (which she rarely wore, simply because it felt odd for a girl from the Regency era), and now climbed in a pair of khaki pants and a shirt. Her dark hair was tied up, a sight that amused Millard at how military she looked, especially since Imogen De Vere rarely looked anything less than the lady she's been brought up there. While Imogen hadn't fit in to society due to her peculiarity, every bit of her oozed a Regency era lady in the making, most of which simply endeared her to Millard even more.

At the same time, he was beginning to wonder if liking someone always brought with it such complex a degree of emotions. He felt his heart jump to his throat each time Imogen slipped, and worrying constantly if she'd be too tired out. He checked on her constantly, so much so that by the time they got to the first ledge for a rest, he was more mentally drained than he was physically tired.

Reaching for the bottle of water that Imogen handed out, Millard's brows furrowed when he saw her pale pallor, brushing his fingers against hers before speaking. "Are you sure you're okay, Gen?"

"I guess? For someone who doesn't workout, this is a whole year's worth of exercise." She tried to joke with a laugh. Imogen flopped next to Millard right after she said that though, and he felt her sag against his body with more relief than was needed, which prompted his usually overprotective nature to surge forward. "Hey Emma, you guys go ahead, kay? I think Imogen needs a bit more rest."

"Oh, we can-"

"No, go ahead. Miss Peregrine's been waiting for a long time, and I think Bronwyn and the others must be worried sick. Go ahead, we'll catch up." He insisted, knowing that Imogen would be stressed out if she slowed down the whole troupe. While Emma wanted to stay however, it was Jacob in the end who vetoed the decision (after noticing the close proximity between the two, had just given his own partner a glare and declared loudly that they should get going), which led to Millard collecting Imogen's frame in his arms the moment they had left.

Amusing himself at how her size could fit easily on his lap, he pushed her head to lean on his shoulder, stroking the silky black locks. Imogen breathed easily in his hold, her weary body thankful for the softness his body allowed, when a thought suddenly popped in her head, and she pulled the sketchbook she had been using earlier towards her. Flipping it back, the invisible peculiar raised a brow when she rested on the page she had sketched him on, and nudged her. "What are you planning on now?"

"Touching up. Hush." Imogen grinned cheekily, reaching up to run her hand across the contours of his face again. This time however, her touch was more familiar, more comfortable now considering he had technically surpassed all regular boundaries. She brushed thumb across lips, fingers over ears, and occasionally turned back to add certain strokes and brushes to the sketch. After awhile, Millard began to notice her adding lines, wrinkles when he frowned, or places where the years had been tougher to him. When Imogen replaced her chalk on the ground, Millard was wondering how Imogen could make something already seemingly perfect, look even better. "You're a perfectionist, aren't you?" He teased through his awe, at which Imogen laughed and leaned against him again. "A little, maybe." She paused, and then cocked her head with a curious smile. "I wonder…"

With that rather curious trail-off, Millard could only stare as she began to trace her fingers across the lines she's drawn. Raising a brow, the male tried to question Imogen, but got silence in return as she continued intently. Her fingers went past his brow, along his ears, and finally met back again, before she waved a hand over the sketch, watching it glow for a little, before fading again. Imogen laughed, noticing how the sketch still remained on paper. "It wasn't anything. Human sketches don't work, but I figure I'd just try and see if- Millard!"

Her sudden exclamation and stumble backward had Millard shocked himself, almost thinking a hollowgast came on attack. He was instantly on guard, that is until he realized the person Imogen had been staring in shock and surprise was him. Only then did he relax his stance, and asked Imogen curiously. "What's the matter, Gen?"

"You-You… I could see you!"

"What?"

"I… really!" She insisted, yet when Millard picked up his hands to stare at them, all he saw was nothing as usual. However, he knew better than to say it was a bluff, for what benefit did Imogen get from lying about this? "Are you sure? Maybe it was just a play of light."

"No, really!'

"Gen… Honestly, maybe you just wanted it too much." Millard's heart ached sweetly, in a good way for he could imagine how much the girl wanted to see him. It was his one regret, actually. "I want to, too. Really, if I wasn't invisible, I probably would've kissed you a long time ago." He gave a dry laugh, to which Imogen softened and stepped closer to him. "Mill, don't be like that. After all, how many girls can say they've kissed thin air?"

With a laugh, Imogen stepped closer to take up his hand, but the moment she laced her fingers with his, the ripple appeared again, putting flesh, bone, a thatch of dirty blond hair on a slender figure, with sharp nose and green eyes, and within seconds, Millard rippled to visibility in front of her again.

Once again, Imogen squeaked, but this time she didn't let go, and instead grabbed Millard's other hand and shoved it in front of his face. "Look! See, I didn't dream it up!" But Millard was too shocked, way too shocked to even respond. His hands gripped open and close in front of him. Were those his fingernails? "Do … we have a mirror here, Gen?"

"I can get one." She let go, but when she did, his hands disappeared again, like they've been for the past seventy years or so, much to his disappointment. When Imogen pulled out the crudely sketched mirror, she blinked in surprise at the floating shirt and pants again. "C'mere, hold me. I… think I can figure out why this is going on." A sleeve reached out, and Imogen grabbed in the general direction of it, grinning with relief as Millard's corporeal body appeared in front of her again.

The male reached forward to take the mirror, and a sense of awe settled surrounding him again as he looked in the mirror. The green eyes of his own, the pair he hadn't had a chance to even see in many, many years. His dirty blond hair, unkept and messy around his head because who'd see them anyway? But now as he flipped his head, he saw the stray lock of hair move away, saw more than felt his eyes blinking. Bringing the hand that gripped Imogen's across his cheek, the guy bit his lip when he actually felt and saw the back of his hand brushing against his cheek, proving one final time that it wasn't just a hallucination or a hologram that made him able to see himself in the mirror. "How…" Imogen had started, but Millard had read enough to roughly guess what had happened.

"Like Jacob, kind of. Jacob's peculiarity was that he could see hollowgasts, those we can't see. But his powers would've been obsolete had he been born in a time without hollowgasts. In the end the ymbryne's realized that his power was not just to see hollowgasts, but to be able to see things most of us can't."

"Why can't he see you then?"

"Takes time, I guess. He didn't even see the jars the first time he stepped in the Library of Souls, not until he focused. So I guess if he trained enough, he'd be able to see invisible peculiars as well." He shrugged, and shifted back to the topic "Anyway, considering your peculiarity is to be able to bring what is seen to be what is real, I guess it works in that you're bringing what usually can't be seen, to be visible."