While the desert was scorching hot, up in the air where birds flew, there was some cooler temperatures; otherwise his mother would have likely died if she was anything like him. 120 or more degrees could demolish someone who was not used to it, and water was a rare thing. 

"Donovan's room is fine," she stated in response to his defensive sofly spoken words. He obviously didn't understand that she was just trying to relate and remind him of their mutual feelings, feelings that were obviously more nagging in her mind than his. She wanted to get started in this life with him, but perhaps he just didn't understand the intent of her bringing it up again. Whatever the reason, she got her answer and didn't want to discuss it further.

Though the conversation ended, it didn't mean he wouldn't rescue her, and it was likely him who had saved her from falling. She had taken the proper exit from the tub, but just slipped on the interior's smooth edge. Fortunately he was there to comfort her and she burried her head on his wet body. The fear and embarrassment seemed to simmer down quite quickly, particularly because he didn't point out her slipping. 

From there, she moved slightly, shifting to face the oncoming two towels for her, and watched as he took the one for himself. One towel was wrapped up quickly, binding her hair in a sort of turban, and the other went about the process of drying her skin and eventually handing it off as he came to take it. Wrapping her nightgown around her, she tied the solid fabric tight. She looked ready for bed, but in their bond she was wide awake and no longer sleepy looking.

As he dried off himself, she observed him and how he moved. There was minor desire for him in their bond as well as a much more significant amount of attraction, but curiosity was her main emotion. She always found how men did things differently than women interesting.

Feeling ready to go, she collected the dirty clothes and wet towels to wash the next day and held them to her body.

"Ready?"