She opened her eyes a small considered moment later, when Cassian had pulled himself back by only a single careful breath, the single careful breath being, by his own small private estimate, the exact distance he had been willing to grant her between the warmth of his mouth at her forehead and the rest of the room he had spent the last hour rearranging around her.
"How can I change your eyes' colour?" she asked.
She waited for him to answer. When he said nothing. Her eyes fell over the place, this time with the new clarity of a woman who had been told, by the man she was lying next to, that the room she was lying in was the only room in the city he had ever brought a woman into.
"And now," she said slowly, with the small, slow realisation, "I realise — we are in your room."
"Our room," Cassian corrected her.
