If Kaito was hoping to see anything in Sora's eyes, he was out of luck. Closing off Sora's airway this time seems to have closed off his expression as well.

And it is different this time, with Sora having already been lightheaded for a while, the contrast in his consciousness growing between the increasing majority of things blurring into a fuzzy static and the few items remaining focused in almost painfully sharp relief. The threads of maintaining control, of not giving anything away unless he doesn't need it are still bright, with the touch of Kaito's thumb on his throat and the feel, more than the sound, of the voice so close to him cutting through as well. His body's ache to release its growing build-up of carbon dioxide is relatively soft at this point, but gaining volume, like the pounding of his blood in his head as his heart rate accelerates even more.

There's a certain paradox to waiting -- it's done for a separate final purpose and yet, if he were pressed, he'd have to admit to himself that it had its own sort of deliciousness. Largely, of course, due to the knowledge that the end would, in fact, come, and that when it did... that would be something to savor. And that shades his face with a faint smile.

So, for now, he waits.