"That would be a little hard to explain," she said, looking over her shoulder and watching his face as he worked. "They aren't bleeding, and they don't feel infected. If they act up, I'll go. As long as it goes both ways," she said, repeating his words and about cooking and doing dishes, but referring to the scratches on his chest.
This close, his eyes looked even bluer than they normally did, his lashes longer, and she didn't hide the fact that she was looking at him the way she was. His hands felt cool and sure and safe, even if they made her shiver a little.
"What do you think happens to them when they're not... here?" she asked thoughtfully.