Paul huffs in mock offense that doesn't mask the underlying profound relief of it. He's pliant for Kaworu's rearranging of his legs, content to be entangled.

The water has helped him feel better. So too have the metabolic processes he's been coaxing into heightened efficiency, filtration and regeneration turned up to an upper tolerable limit. The downside is how warm it makes him, and the sticky sheen of sweat breaking out over his skin as his body shifts toxic byproducts out through every channel available.

His heart has to beat quickly to keep up with it all, but that's not the only reason it jumps and shivers.

"You let me win," he accuses, very gently, and in a fit of daring blows a cool stream of air across the delicate fuzz at the nape of Kaworu's neck, just to see what happens. "I don't mind, though."