Gunmetal
He's not really that surprised after the initial shock of seeing Elizabeth Thompson casually place a hand over her midriff and smiling.
When Maka asks him in the privacy of their own home why he hadn't seemed nearly as shocked as everyone else, he leans back from the dining room table, balancing on two of his chair's legs, and muses for awhile before answering.
Liz is generally a wuss, and way too girly for his tastes, but occasionally, when shit hits the fan, she's strong. When she gets that hardness in her eyes- that gleam when she is forced to wield her sister and defend their meister in a tight situation- Soul thinks he sees a shadow of what she might have been, once. Back when she had to fight for her life on the streets. Back when the only thing keeping her sister fed was her own backbone.
He thinks that maybe, in another life, if he had known her back then, they might have hooked up. He likes that hardness, that steely determination. As it is now, Kid spoils her. She's gone soft and pampered, endlessly filing nails and plucking eyebrows and showing off the edges of lace around her latest bra over the neckline of her shirt. He's not attracted to that stuff very much, even if all those things help make her exponentially more sexy than she already is.
When it comes down to it, Liz Thompson's fire has been brought down to a comfortable simmer.
And Soul wouldn't want to change that for her, because she's earned the right to be afraid of ghosts and to be babied by her baby sister and to have a place to call home. He wonders if she feels the same- if that, if she feels any attraction towards him at all, the idea of who he used to be is what intrigues her, and not who he is now.
So he respects her, which is as close to being interested in her as he can be, because being in love with each other's pasts is uncool and probably offensive to both parties. They've both shed previous lives to be here, finally finding a place where they can simply breathe. Through this, they have an unspoken understanding of one another.
She sometimes jabs at him with an elbow, wondering aloud why anyone would give up the fancy life. He had responded to her on one of these occasions, when everyone else was out of earshot, with, "A mansion doesn't love you back." To which she had looked at him a moment, and then ahead where her sister and friends and both of their meisters stroll on ahead. She gave a short nod. "Mm. You have to fill it with people," she replied. And he saw no trace of gunmetal in her blue eyes.
So he's happy for her, and not really that surprised. She had probably planned on popping out crazy, complusive, half-god babies long before Soul had ever had that tiny conversation with her.
He sits forward again in his chair, watching Maka watching him, waiting for his response. "She got Kid to finally give her what she wanted." Maka's face contorts skeptically, somewhat put off by his insinuative undertones, but she's smart. That's one reason why he likes her, though that's for another time to mull over. She catches on to his hidden meaning quickly, after reading his face.
"Family." She answers, determined eyes shining with understanding. Her gaze falls away from him and turns inward with reflection.
"Do you want one?" He asks, hoping to sneak underneath her iron-clad defenses while she's unaware.
"I have a family," she murmurs.
He knows she's not talking about her mother. Her father is probably included with all of their friends, though. "Welp," he says, sliding to his feet and heading towards his bedroom. "If you ever want to make it bigger, I'll give you what you want."
Looking over his shoulder just as he shuts his bedroom door, he sees shock etched on her face, and underneath that, the strong, knowing gleam in her eyes. He likes it very much.