"Language, Angel. I can't tell what you're sayin', but I can tell it's nothin' you can say in church." Sookie's scolding is humorous, though, and the hand she lays on his shoulder is barely more than a brush, careful of his obvious sunburn. "Honey, didn't anybody give you sunscreen? You're bright red. Honestly, men. Y'all're just--"

She falls silent midsentence as Angel's thoughts filter in; she's so used to not shielding around him that touch is enough to reach in without meaning to, and for a moment she just loses herself in the rise and fall of his thoughts. Maryann's thoughts were just as foreign, but they were ugly, frightening. Angel's are lilting and beautiful, like listening to music even if Sookie can't understand the words. Then, flushing guiltily she steps back, wishing she had pockets to put her hands in.

"I'm sorry, I just don't have to block you out normally-- and touchin' people helps, and I swear it won't happen again."