His breathing is rhythmic and steady, perceptive blue eyes thankfully hidden behind dropped lids. He's rolled up his shirt sleeves, and she cards her fingers through the dusting of hair almost reverently.
He's relaxed- in that sweet space between awake and asleep- remaining perfectly still beside her. Allowing her the freedom to touch and study at her own pace.
She traces the line of his lips, the shell of his ear.
"Patrick?"
A low hum proves he hasn't sunk fully into dreamland yet. "Hmmm?"
"After all the fists to the face, how have you managed not to break your nose?"