"You smell like the sea," he said to himself more than her, keeping one hand over the dry paper towels, while the other finally pulled on her arm so that she'd stretch them out. It would make looping the fabric bandage around her a little easier. He started work on that, falling silent as he began.
His hearing was especially good - well, all of his senses were. Though she sang very quietly, he heard every bit of it. He also knew that her language was nothing like anything he knew or had even heard of. The vowel and consonant shapes were completely unique - not Proto-Germanic, or even Proto-Indo-European. But apart from the strangeness of her language, the other truly striking thing about her singing was the sheer golden beauty of it. It was almost tangible. It felt like poison in his veins, stinging, burning, filling his throat with something that made him fight to breathe.
He tightened the final bandage and quickly passed her dress to her over her shoulder. More for his own sanity than her precious modesty, he turned away from her so she could get dressed in peace. "I'll get you something hot to drink," he mumbled, "Once you're ready to go." Opening the door and sharing that skin with anyone else was out of the question. He'd wait in here until she was dressed again.
He wanted to drown in her voice. But he couldn't. He didn't deserve that, or if he ever did, he'd long since lost the right to such a thing.