“IT is a comfort beyond measure,” he answered softly. He loved to bask in that warmth of the soul that came from caring for another. It was a feeling he had thought long lost, turned to dust from centuries of disuse. His eyes fell shut, if only to curl in closer to her, the spirit corporeal as he let a hand dare to caress her back and offer a modicum of comfort. “Doest thou feel safe in mine arms?”
A loving gesture, his hand cupping the small of her back that caused it to arch in feline display and her chest to purr in honest appreciation. Despite her obvious discomfort ( not an illness, for it couldn’t be treated and had to be patiently coasted off ), Sally pushed through her own deplorable state and found the strength to return what was being given to her —— a wet kiss, planted right beneath Ambrose’s jawline where his pulse point should have been. Her eyelids fell shut, nose and mouth sucking in every bit of cold air that smelled entirely of him. “Safe… baby, I could fall asleep and let you be my eyes and ears for the night.” Out of pure instinct, Sally’s face - pearled with droplets of sweat - pushed deeper into the man’s coat to let itself be engulfed by his warmth. She would have, fallen asleep, had her stomach not felt like it was being brutally punched by withdrawal’s iron fists. “We do work well together, don’t you think? The ghost and the junkie… what a goddamn irony.”