he who hesitates is toast

She studies his face, how relaxed and happy he looks, his lashes long and soft. He looks much younger, some of his many cares and worries lifted for a few moments from his shoulders.

Sharon lifts her hand away just long enough to turn the subtitles on and turn the volume down to a soporific murmur, then returns to gently smoothing his hair, her fingers gentle through the long strands of it. "Rest," she tells him, her voice quiet. "We've got nowhere to be."