Time is of the essence, and he hates that. He hates that he can't savor this, the way he did the first time the were together. He hates that there's no time to hold her or kiss her or properly get undressed. He only has now, and now is only moments.

He fumbles with the buttons to her jeans, then tugs them gently down her hips. He feels awkward, foolish, like he's doing something terribly wrong. He wants her, but this isn't enough. It isn't enough. He can't settle with it.

"Rose," he murmurs against her mouth. "I just---I want you to know, if I don't come back---"