River is comfortable in her own skin, welcoming the heat of the water with a shiver of pleasure. Her eyes are bright, fixed on his face as she reaches for him.

Her hands smooth over his chest, sliding over his skin to rinse away the remains of the moon and his other self. The patches of dried blood are disturbing, but only in the context of the bathroom. She holds an image of him, standing at the edge of the forest in twilight, and it soothes the incongruity in her mind.

She can't help herself. She leans in to lick at the water beading on his sternum.