Kael scooped up Rhea's discarded costume from the floor, the fabric damp and faintly warm from their earlier chaos.
"I'll get this cleaned," he said, flashing her a quick grin as he headed for the laundry nook. Rhea stretched, amber eyes glinting with a lazy satisfaction, and padded off toward the shower without a word, her bare feet silent on the Haven's worn planks.
He tossed the costume into the washing machine with some detergent, the hum of the cycle kicking in as he returned to the kitchen.
The table sat bare, slick with traces of their morning—sweat, breath, and other unspoken juices.
Kael grabbed a rag and some floor cleaner, wiping it down with quick, firm strokes until the wood gleamed, then set to work plating breakfast: fresh eggs, golden toast, and a small bowl of fruit, the scent of coffee lingering in the air.
The shower shut off, and Rhea emerged, sauntering back to the table in nothing but her undergarments and the collar still snug around her neck.
