"Bones, can you help me out?" asked Booth, gesturing at the washroom door with his bandaged hand and arm.
"Of course." She and Booth enter the washroom while Angela looked on perplexed. They came back out and Booth thanked Temperance, who nodded, and then he left.
"What was that about?" asked Angela.
"He needed some help pointing it. His hands and arm are injured from saving me that last time."
Angela just looked at her.
"What?"
"Sweetie...what the hell is with you two?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you're like...married, like super-married and you don't seem to know it. Like you think it's natural that you'd kill for each other and die for each other. That you've actually done the former, and he's nearly done the latter several times."
"We're partners."
"Yeah, life-partners." Angela muttered.
"We are not!" Brennan's voice rose an octave.
"Brennan, you just handled his ju..."
"Ange!"
"Well it's true."
"It was purely clinical. He needed help and as his partner, he trusted me to help him."
"Clearly you're in a stage of denial so deep, it's like you're on a different planet." She paused. "You did wash your hands right?"
Brennan crossed her arms and glared at her.
"What? It's just that since you're not the one who actually went, it might not have been automatic."
The glare hardened.
"All right, all right. I'm sorry. Sheesh."