She doesn't even argue, just sheds her coat and jeans. They land in a wet sort of schlop on the floor; Alex doesn't care, she's curled up in her wet shirt and knickers on the bed like a soaked kitten. He says not a word but tosses her his coat. Gene checks the heating: gone to shit a decade ago, if it ever worked at all.
"Gene I'm still f-freezing."
She's a talking pile of clothes and sheets now. He's going to get hell for this but he sighs.
"Budge up, Soggy Knickers." It gets a laugh instead. She really is tired. They curl up together and for the most part he tries to be a gentleman about it. "Gene," Alex murmurs, her lips somewhere near his collarbone.
"What?"
"Remove your hand from my arse, please."
