"That's the name of the game," Booth replied in a singsong voice. "Comfortable, yeah, but there's a little bit of competition in there, see who can make who squirm first or the most."
Grabbing the washcloth from where he'd left it, he tossed it into her sink. "Not to mention sitting there having to hug yourself. It's like demented therapy," he scoffed. "Who needs that?"
The chair he returned to the desk and turned to face her again, leaning against the desk. "Probably." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I think it's some kind of jock and nerd mentality." Booth gave her a look. "I said not prissy, nothing about girly." He stated, holding up his hand.
When she went into the bathroom, he started to head into his own room until he heard her start speaking again. Booth paused just beyond the doorway into his own room. "You can't be the protector all the time, Abby," he said. "Sometimes you have to let someone else take a few of the blows for you." He gave her a small smile before disappering into his room.