"That's the working theory," he replied, still running his hands through her hair. (Admittedly, he was maybe prioritizing badly when it came to this whole freedom-to-touch thing. Her hair was hardly his top choice for just... touching. But it was a start.)
"She was, er. Working on me. And Angel, my colleague, came in, and they fought -- actually, at one point they flew out a window -- and by the time I got down there, she was crying and he was holding her."
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"She was, er. Working on me. And Angel, my colleague, came in, and they fought -- actually, at one point they flew out a window -- and by the time I got down there, she was crying and he was holding her."
That didn't actually thrill him, for the record.