[Gale is grateful that some part of him seems to remember that once upon a time, he had been charming and put-together; his days of being one of Blackstaff Academy's most prolific heartbreakers might be behind him, but that past experience certainly serves to help him steel himself now. He wouldn't consider himself to be shy or prudish about matters of this nature, but it's been quite some time since anyone has spoken to him about such things in such a straightforward manner— and even longer since he's had the pleasure of going about such things the mortal way.

He clears his throat, prepared to offer her a witty rejoinder before she takes his hand; her own is warm beneath the glove, and he finds his fingers curling against the inside of her palm as she cradles his hand, any attempt at cleverness now forgotten as the present moment feels equal parts humorous and tender.

His smile softens, and he raises his other hand to rest against her wrist in solidarity, unbothered by the fact that he's something of a haphazard and flour-streaked mess at the moment.]

That's a very interesting 'what if.' I've always been the curious sort.

[He meets her gaze fondly, giving her wrist a gentle squeeze of reassurance.]

I suppose we'll never really know what might be until we do, will we?