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He's waiting for her, arm reaching out to draw her close as she slips beneath the covers. She goes willingly, nestling her head between his arm and shoulder, cheek pressed against his ribcage. That's not close enough, though, so she twines tighter, nudging her toes between his, clinging deep, lungs stitched shut in the effort to find familiar ground once more. Only when the weight of him anchors her to the mattress does she stop, finally able to breathe, to start to let everything fall away.
or, after the events of "Brave New World," demons haunt the air. There's lots to sort out.
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