You say nothing. She takes that as permission and uses you like a tool she has decided to enjoy.

It's good. It's very good. It is also, you notice, entirely about her — her pace, her grip on the headboard, her breathing getting shorter while yours has stopped being relevant.

WrenYou're quiet.

You say you didn't want to interrupt.

WrenThat's the wrong answer, but it's a nice one.

When she's finished she gets up, wipes her hands on a towel, and hands you the ledger like a piece of paperwork.

Afterwards she lies with her back to you and keeps the space of a hand between you on the narrow bed.