[ Eddie does his best not to stare once she's stripped down, because he knows for as much as he's gone through tonight, she's gone through impossibly more. She's still trying to find her footing existing in the world again, and he doesn't want to add an extra layer of complication. So instead focuses on getting himself undressed, sticks a hand into the spray to make sure it isn't too hot. Once they're both ready, and he's deemed the shower just the right temperature, Eddie helps her in.
He isn't quite sure how long it's been before he notices that she's crying. Of course she's crying, he doesn't blame her for crying. He just wishes she wasn't. Not because he can't handle it, but because he doesn't want her to every feel this way. Without a word, he pulls her close, holds her and lets her just cry. She has every right to cry, and so he says nothing, does nothing except keep her close.
Eddie doesn't know how long it's been, time seems so insignificant in this moment. But eventually he eases himself back, reaches for his bottle of shampoo. It's a musky, woodsy sort of scent, and he begins working his fingers through her hair. He turns the two of them, gets Chrissy beneath the spray so he can rinse the suds from her hair. Then he sets about lathering up a washcloth, goes slow as he washes her body. He takes his time with every inch of her, slow and methodical. When he's done, he stands again and kisses her. It's a soft, careful, sort of kiss, not wanting to add on to whatever she's already feeling. ]
I think you're all good. [ He says as he pulls back, pushing wet hair out of her face. ] How are you feeling?
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He isn't quite sure how long it's been before he notices that she's crying. Of course she's crying, he doesn't blame her for crying. He just wishes she wasn't. Not because he can't handle it, but because he doesn't want her to every feel this way. Without a word, he pulls her close, holds her and lets her just cry. She has every right to cry, and so he says nothing, does nothing except keep her close.
Eddie doesn't know how long it's been, time seems so insignificant in this moment. But eventually he eases himself back, reaches for his bottle of shampoo. It's a musky, woodsy sort of scent, and he begins working his fingers through her hair. He turns the two of them, gets Chrissy beneath the spray so he can rinse the suds from her hair. Then he sets about lathering up a washcloth, goes slow as he washes her body. He takes his time with every inch of her, slow and methodical. When he's done, he stands again and kisses her. It's a soft, careful, sort of kiss, not wanting to add on to whatever she's already feeling. ]
I think you're all good. [ He says as he pulls back, pushing wet hair out of her face. ] How are you feeling?