"That would probably be easier for you to do so, than me," he murmurs softly, simply appreciating the closeness between them, the quiet. And if he takes the opportunity once she has finished to lean down and press his lips against her forehead? Then that is just using the advantage he has been given. "I will be quick."

As he takes his leave, he pauses at the table and glances down at the bucket beside it - her blood still looking just as it did when it somehow (how did he manage that, he isn't certain) moved from her lungs into his. He lingers just briefly, considering that thought, before he moves (cautiously) through the door.