Certainly it's a strange situation; it's not something she'd imagined, in her embarrassingly frequent fantasies of what if, what if. And it's hard to explain-- that as he is distinct from himself, so he is also the same; unquestionably the man she loves already.

If it had come to this that first day-- it would have been different; if she'd arrived here from a time earlier, before she really knew him, it would have been different. But here they are.

She shifts to prop herself on an elbow, better able to move, and kisses him again; light and maybe reassuring as she places her hand on his chest, tracing his collarbone, aimless and intimate and with any luck, relaxing.

"You've got the advantage here," she teases, voice wry and soft. "You'll have to tell me what you like."