Sooner or later she'll stop looking and start touching. There's a difference between the intentional prolonging of anticipation now and their long stretch of poorly-concealed wistful glances, the way her skin tingled beneath his fingers on her lower back. They can talk through this first and he'll still be there after. The luxury of a relationship built on partnership and friendship; sex and conversation aren't either-or.

"Hmn-- I don't think so?" It sounds, maybe, vaguely familiar, like a name she's heard that means nothing. The description, though, fits neatly into what she felt when she'd looked at the hermit. Literally, if the man was housebound. "Who is he?"