In spite of herself, Faye smiles, one to mirror the expression that Dean presses against her skin. Her brow furrows at the same time, a deep cut of shadow as she presses her fingers through his hair, unsure if she's acting on memory or instinct. Sometimes, they hit her out of nowhere, a sense of belonging and the feel of a mother's hand coaxing her to sleep.

"Take your time," she says, means it, before her voice lightens and teases. "Just as long as you take a shower often enough. I'm not sure I'd find it in myself to stick around otherwise."