It takes a moment for her to discern his words beneath the strange kaleidoscope of sound around them. But before she understands completely, she reaches out, and curls her hand around his, pressing her fingers into his wrist.

That helps. She can feel his breath, can concentrate on making hers match his rhythm.

It's not that it's painful - in a way, it's beautiful, as much as it's strange. But it overwhelms her much more than the smell had, so much sound, low and high at once, deep vibrations that could rattle this small, tightly closed room. Yet when she closes her eyes, when her breathing falls in time with his, the sound coalesces. As though she'd been trying to hear every dissonant note, rather than letting them come together.

She thinks, at once, of the night sky. Deep, dense black with thousands, millions of tiny shards of light. She sees it so clearly, as though the sound were drawing it closer to her, making the stars sharper, the darkness deeper.