It's the sort of question that has its own tangible affect, as live as if she'd tightened the curl of her fingers. It draws a twitch from him, a second spent rummaging around for a clever thing to say, while his hands feel her curls between his fingers, wind them around only to come loose again.

The headboard creaks as he leans back rather than curling up into her kiss. Still extremely easy to reconnect in that way, his hands still in her hair, hers in his, but he can look at her with blur.

"Depends," finally. "You're not in a hurry, are you?"