He remembers being this close to someone: his hands near to being around someone's neck, the tiny conversations mumbled between each other, the mirth on one's lips. His lips now, even as Inigo pouts, and Tidus knows that isn't what this is -- but he wants to pretend; creeping his forehead off from Inigo's, but still lingering near enough that their noses could touch. His eyes half-lidded with the close proximity, his smile tiny.

"Can I make it better?" he asks, coyly; telling himself, it's just fun, Inigo won't mind some fun. "If I make up for it now, you can't blame me later."

Right? He can get a Get Out Of Trouble card, right now.