The noise of the fan wasn't anything harsh or loud, but it was still ungodly to Aidan's ears, which had heard nothing but silence for days. His eyes flitted away from the mirror when she cleared it, going to the fan first and then following her movements. Every single thing she did held determination and focus. He'd seen some of this in his Evey back on the dying world. It seemed like this Evey had become more of a fine point.
If he'd been in any other mood, Aidan might have smiled and even laughed at Evey's precarious perch upon his person. As it was, he just held his hands away from her until she was settled. He wouldn't push her off, wouldn't tell her to stop. There was only so far he could go in refusing the help of other people, verbalizing it or making it physical was not a step he could take.
She stopped drying him after she'd erased the water droplets from his upper body and his hair. He felt a still-damp strand lay down against his ear and knew that if circumstances had been different, this would have been another smile. Probably from the both of them. Laughter, too. Much of it. He could only imagine what his hair must look like. Aidan pointedly refused to return his gaze to the now-clean mirror. He'd see himself there.
Evey's hands on his shoulders, that small contact, triggered a reaction in him. He first wrapped his arms around her waist and then hunched forward. Aidan pressed his forehead into her neck, resting his ear so he could hear the beat of her heart. His eyes were closed. He shouldn't have avoided Evey. Either one of them. He needed her touch. And he knew that this was not his Evey. That this Evey belonged to a man named Preston. She loved him, she'd said as much. But he didn't have his Evey here now, and the skin was familiar. Aidan would never presume to try for more than this, but he needed at least this.