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“Hey.”
The line of sight from his bedpillow made the cracked tile appear as only the third from the wall whereas Garak remembered it was the fourth, having noted it from beside the replicator.
“You in there today?”
Leaving his gaze to drill pinpricks through the corners of the tile, Garak trained his scrutiny on the weight and stroking range of Julian’s thumb on his forearm, while on its swish he affixed an ear.
Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.
“Can you name a feeling, my love?”
Blank? Was blank a feeling?
“A sound, perhaps?”
swish… swish…
“Don’t stop.”
There, both.