[ Gold doesn't break off that contact, though his other hand is largely doing the subtle work of cleaning himself up, closing what needs to be closed, letting the air cool and dry the very slight sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead. Their eyes meet, and it occurs to him then that perhaps is when at least one of them should have capacity enough to determine whether there is more to be done or if this is how they conclude.
no subject
The latter really isn't his style. ]
What can I get for you? [ A drink? A towel? ]