[ Oh, that little exhale is music to his ears and it makes his emotions sing. He's under her skin, worming deeper, and he wants to bury himself in it. Sink in and curl up in that hollow space between bone and skin and flesh. Make a hole and fill it. So it's no surprise that when that door opens he heads straight for it. ]

I don't worry about my performance. I know exactly what I can do and what my limits are.

[ Like tendrils, darkness and shadow and rot reach into that opening she's allowed him, trying to pry it wider and fill the hollow he finds. A sense of pressure and a desire so intense it's more accurate to call it possessiveness. Jealousy. ]

You don't actually exorcise things like me, though. You help the people who do. [ There's a nasty sort of laughter there, taunting her powerlessness. Reveling in it. ]

Does your body still burst open at the seams here?