He pulls at the hair wrapped around his arm, but it doesn't do him any good. She can't actually feel that, but her imagination helpfully fills in the gaps anyway. His free hand is probably just as warm as the one on her arm. That's... distracting.

She looks back up from staring curiously at his hands. "Why are you..." She trails off, unsure of which question to ask first. She finally makes eye contact. He's... she can't quite remember the word, but the odd look on his face matches the way he spoke to her before. Something clicks in her brain finally. Awed. That's the word.

"Why are you here?" she asks finally.