"Maybe I didn't want you dripping on my tile," he said casually, drawing in a breath and carefully setting the spatula down next to the pan.

There was something vaguely ridiculous about the moment, him standing in front of a grilling sandwich and her appearing just feet away, touching herself so wantonly.

"Is that what you're going to do now?" He asked, amusement tinging his otherwise toneless voice. "Pop in whenever you need an itch scratched?" There was something of an edge to it, the old, familiar bite of their banter without the cruelty.