He was watching her, carefully, intently as she worked it out. And then the realization dawned on her face, in her voice, in her words. Understanding. And his eyes lit up, a little. Smiled a little. "Молодец." Softly, truly. Praise, because, yes, she was thinking. She was taking in information and drawing conclusions from it, true ones. The ones that would keep her alive, out there.

And, this time, when she kissed him, he drew her closer, the metal hand behind her back to keep her near, the other one rising up to stroke her cheek, the edge of her ear, then cup the back of her head as he kissed back.

For a change, just now, the worry that this would destroy - her, he thought, and that was worse than the idea that it would destroy himself - was put to rest. It made him relax, a little. Made him bask in her warmth, in her affection, and it felt - he felt - all right. The sensation... it rippled through him, a release from the tension that had been building up in him for a while, now, keeping him awake, on edge.

It couldn't be good, a part of him knew, it couldn't end well. But oh, it felt so... so much better than anything he could remember.

So he leaned a little back, resting his shoulders against the headboard, and drew her in with him.