[ It takes her a moment — even with both feet on the ground, she leans up against the bulkhead for support as she catches her breath. She catches his reverent little whisper and the corner of her mouth quirks up faintly. ]

What, better than last night? [ One hand absently lifts to sweep her wild hair away from her face, smoothing it back as she finally straightens from the wall. She gingerly skims a light touch over the bite-shaped bruises forming on her shoulder as she goes on wryly: ] We keep this up, and I'll have to figure out how to do wetwork from a wheelchair.