David Locke lit a cigarette and insisted on taking a shower despite his inconveniently injured leg.
Mary Scott felt uneasy and stayed outside the bathroom. When David came out, she saw Mary leaning against the bathroom wall, dozing off. Her head bobbed forward like a little chick pecking at grains.
Finding the scene amusing, David moved closer and propped up Mary's chin with his hand. His nose brushed against her loose strands of dark hair, which carried a faint fragrance identical to the shampoo scent on him—subtle yet alluring. Unable to resist, he buried his nose into her hair.
Mary startled awake and, with sleepy eyes, looked up at the man beside her. Noticing his face buried entirely in her hair, the corners of her lips curved slightly, and she affectionately rubbed her forehead against David's neck, her voice raspy, "Finished showering? You didn't bump into anything, did you?"
"No," David responded with a low chuckle; Mary's waking concern clearly delighted him.
