She makes a muffled sound of agreement against his chest, the towel still tucked against her face. It's all right, she wants to tell him, but it's really not. It's better, though, to have him beside her; to lean on him more literally.

And lean she does, letting herself sag in his embrace. For once, she's not trying to hide it, not trying to be all right. She's just waiting it out.

"I think it's letting up," she murmurs eventually.