The tussle with the cat gives him something else to look at as he waits for her to process what he'd just said.

And then she's leaning over him, her eyes like jewels, her hair falling like blonde curtains, pooling at the pit of his throat. He swallows hard. Glancing up to meet her gaze, he quickly looks away again, feeling as if she could see right through to his core.

"Yeah. Pretty much."

He keeps his gaze lowered, watching his hand as he lightly runs his palms up her arms.

"Listen, I like you, okay? Yeah, I care about you, and yeah, you mean more to me than just sex, 'cause you're-- y'know, I--"

His brow knits when a word he hadn't thought to associate with Kate before comes to him.

"--I trust you."

It's weird to say it, and it's almost weird to think it, but it sort of makes sense to him. That was part of the connection. That he could so quickly tell her about his son when they barely knew each other, even when the wound was still fresh. About his wife and the trouble they'd been through, and knowing she wouldn't judge him for it.

And if he ever found the time and place and reason to tell her about Jimmy, he'd trust her to understand.

His eyes finally flick up to meet hers, and he holds her gaze this time.