Re: Sitting area; sofa
Discomfort was still difficult to watch, even if it wasn't born of sickness or injury. The way he moved brought to mind difficulties that led to her concern for him. Something in her, something likely in residence before she tipped back that labeled bottle, had her caring what happened to him and what had happened to him. She was glad he didn't flinch away when she did her best to give some comfort. Maybe it even helped them both.
The declaration about purity (because it was more than a statement, the way he said it) made her smile, and that earlier amusement in her expression returned enough to be heard in her voice. "Of course. No need to be muddying the work." If it sounded like a tease, a gentle ribbing, it was. Even so, the care was still there, and her hand alighted on his jittering arm, trying to bring some stillness to him.
"That was the soap we had." Her voice was altered now by the way she'd folded forward - not as much air to carry her words, and a little muffled by how close she was to the cushion of the sofa. She answered the questions as they came, not caring that there was little in the way of transition, and doing nothing to create it. "Sometimes. When it's the right time."