“Just checking.”

[ He repeats it back, still in that flat sort of voice, and lifts the edge of the blanket with his arm to cast her a level, unimpressed look. ]

This must be the thousandth time you’ve tested it.

[ Faraday pulls the blanket off of him, flings the edge over Emma’s head as a petty sort of revenge. He allows himself a smile, once her vision is obscured, entertained by this surprisingly playful side of her. She never behaved this way before their brief falling out, and there was a time long ago when he honestly thought she was incapable of a smile. Given the tragedies she had experienced, though, he couldn’t blame her.

Now, though, she smiles. She laughs. And a lot of the time, he finds pride in being the one who coaxed it out of her, in being able to share it with her. This playfulness is new, though, and he finds it charming. Even if it does occasionally leave him with a small pile of pillows or blankets pooling around his feet after a particularly spirited bout of “just checking.”

Whenever she manages to pull the blanket away, his quickly wrangles his expression, smooths it out to something neutral. ]

You know, I’m beginning to believe you may never actually be satisfied.