He slid into the chair at the table and took a sandwich from the bag, unwrapping it. "Mm. Egg salad." He shot her a look. "My favorite. You must be psychic." He took a bite to make his point.
When she wiped some of the makeup off he didn't move away from her touch, but didn't quite move into it either. He was a little touchy about his makeup, even if she was a sweetheart. "Showers are for the well-behaved and nonthreatening," he protested, half-smiling. "I'm far too scary to be given showers."