She waited a few seconds after he invited her in, just to be safe, and then opened the door to the bathroom slowly. The steam caught her almost immediately, and a second afterward, she turned on the fan in the bathroom. Aidan hadn't turned toward her. He wasn't really doing anything but staring. All thoughts of slapping him went by the wayside. She set his clothes on the countertop, then found a hand towel in the linen closet and started clearing the condensation from the mirror. It was so steamy that she had to do it twice with a fresh hand towel, but she didn't stop until the indistinct outlines of the people in this small room became somewhat clearer. And then she turned back to Aidan.
He was still heartbreakingly beautiful - deep under his skin, she still saw him, and still believed that he possessed a rare nobility. She suspected that it was this nobility that was eating him whole, now, but didn't diminish him. She breathed out, found another hand towel, searched briefly and found some courage, then stepped over to where he was sitting. She had a mission, but it was more than simply task-oriented. When she got to his knees, she stepped forward just a little more, one slim black cotton-clad knee against his white towel thigh, then the other. She perched delicately in his lap. She weighed less than he might have remembered. In silence, she carefully dried the water from his face, from his neck, fastidiously from his shoulders, and then ran the terry cloth through his spiky hair. When she was done - she wouldn't go farther than his shoulders - she set the hand towel aside and looked at him, willing him without words to finally meet her eyes. He hadn't done it once, yet.
There was only so much she could do... but he needed waking up, and she couldn't bring herself to do it roughly. If this didn't work...
Evey sighed, and finally settled her hands on his shoulders.