As they pulled away from each other, bombarded by the onslaught of passing cars, Dane lovingly cradled her face with both hands and tapped his forehead against hers. Both caught each other's gazes and laughed. The pouring rain kept soaking their bodies as one. Their clothes were sticking to their skin and even, to one another.
"You're drenched," she commented, looking between to their damp bodies. "We're drenched."
"Who's fault do you think that is?" he said with a slight endearing smile.
"You started it," she pointed out with a laugh.
"Hah, I'll let you think you've won lynx. You'll get sick. Let's go in."
Her beast of a husband was too funny, almost like a mother hen. She wasn't the only one that would get sick. He would get sick too. She shook her head and sighed at his hopelessness. Prisana wondered if he ever thought about his own well-being. Perhaps, that was the void she filled, to worry for him when no one else would. Even himself.
