He smiles lazily at her kiss. The more she fidgets with his hair, the more sensitive he becomes, and she manages to earn a twitch or two. His throat rattles in pleasured purrs and murmurs. Sweeney's mind starts to wander. It's not ideal.

Images start to overlap. There are faint whiffs of music, like someone's listening down the hall, partial melodies and no words. His brow furrows slightly. The sensation in his scalp is no less pleasurable, it just carries with it some heavy baggage.