Accustomed affection? He's never had enough of it to get used to, let alone to pick apart its intricacies now. Not when she's pressing in against him in what a vestal virgin could tell isn't simple gratitude.

He should stop her.

His hand goes to her shoulder, and then the other ruins all good intentions by moving to her waist. Still, he tips his head back. Out of reach, just.

"Maybe we should talk about this?"