She shakes her head, panic in the pit of her stomach at him leaving. This time it isn't because she's afraid she'll never see him. This time it's because she's afraid of being taken, of having to watch people she cares about and even those she doesn't tortured.

"Please don't," she croaks softly. She's hesitant to take off the tee shirt she's wearing. This isn't a moment fueled by passion. She ducks her head then almost shyly peels her tee shirt off, not meeting his eyes and steps into the tub, sliding down into the hot water.