"You always smell good." (Granted, she hasn't met him when he's smelled of wet dog.) Her eyes slip closed the more he speaks.

And then she blinks them open again with a sharp inhale, blearily looking for a bright light. Her heart hammers in her chest. There is none. Just the dark room, a mirror image of hers. How long had she dozed?

Not long, if he's talking of Irriella. So she forces herself to settle again.

"Has anyone ever stepped on him?"