The sound of running water and scent of lavender wafting through the door pull him back to the present, and he inhales. Slow and deep, he keeps breathing, and soon, his adrenaline returns to normal.
He almost sighs his relief but manages to hold it back.
Refusing to dwell on it further, he schools his features, sheer determination driving him forward. He's come through this before, and she'll come through it now.
Clawed hands toss laundry into a basket, make her bed, and dump her "dinner" into the trash.
Good riddance. Snorting, he turns to the sink.
Dishes are next.