His focus is on unpacking, for the most part, but he does occasionally let his hand brush against her hand, her shoulder, the back of her neck. “Weather’s nicer here,” he noted idly.
She smiled at every gentle touch, and looked up at him as he spoke. “It feels…” not so tight, not so thick, easy to swallow, it felt like , “Good.” she smiled gently. “I’d love to take a walk…” she replied, batting her eyelashes toward him, though she knew it was hardy necessary. Sometimes she liked to believe there was still part of that Angel that wasn’t smittten with her.