It's almost like she knows he's terminally clumsy. He follows her touch, obedient and quiet for once.

"I'll see if I can stand it after we wash. Sometimes running water helps." Sometimes it doesn't, and the drops against his skin feel like stinging hail, but he no longer feels his nerves all bruised and withered. The difficulty of doing anything has been cut in half from earlier today. His voice isn't even as muted as it was, since the sound of it doesn't set off the sirens in his head.

[Your wish is my command.]