"You like me when I'm touchy," he says, gentle brushing his fingertips over that place on the small of her back that gets her spine to arch whenever he touches it just so. Any power he holds over her is illusory, he knows - he feels like Apollo trying to hold onto a shapeshifting nymph sometimes, only he's lucky enough that his nymph doesn't want to escape. He's too old and experienced to believe his love could really tether her if she did.

"Do you want to walk outside for a bit? Would it help you sleep any?"