Don't blink.
Your fingers trace the edge of his mask. If you blink, he will swirl his cape, flee the scene, and you will never get this chance again. He's close. Closer than he's ever been before after rescuing you. Close enough that you can feel his breath wafting over you, smell the unique combination of perspiration and flowers that is him. His hand settles between your breasts, hovering on the locket that makes up your glamour, your own mask.
You flinch.
He's gone.
And you shake your head, blaming yourself.
You never should have blinked.