Olga realises he has responsibilities, and tones it down a little, just enough that he can speak again. She rests her forehead against his hip, her hands gripping his thighs, breathing him in.

She takes pity on him and time slips, back to retrieve the memory of the woman's question for him. She doesn't let go the hold she has on his nervous system though. That sweet ache is too delicious to let go.