Chloe is used to sitting silently while a man holds court. It isn't the same now, though. Each of his experiences holds an immense fascination, no matter how small or trivial they may be. At home, the distance of becoming not much more than a sounding board caused a chill. Listening to Connor fills her with warmth. Everything feels warm, in fact. Like the sunny days of her garden are manifested in reality.

"I always want you to bother me," she tells him, going back to a very important point that needs to be made. "Not that you're ever bothering me. I wish you'd hold hands with me every night." It all rolls so easily off the tongue. She doesn't even bat an eyelid about it.

Swan journeying along the water, she keeps looking up at him. Drinks in every line and contour of his features. Each time she lays eyes on him, he draws her in more. She shifts in his hold so she can face him more. It leaves her perched rather awkwardly on the seat but she doesn't care at all. Like this, she can gently trace the features that have captivated her so.

Fingertips trailing over his cheeks, his lips, the line of his jaw, she can't help making a confession she'll be embarrassed by later. "I could have waited for you, too. But I didn't want to. I pushed through the line and took this seat from someone else. I didn't want to wait. I wanted to be close to you again."