As she relaxes, so does Irene, so does the entire atmosphere. She notes it a second after she actually does it, and is forced to wonder how Mélisande does it; makes Irene fall into step with her without Irene even noticing.

"You didn't," she tells her quietly, a slight smile on her lips as if to say of course you didn't, her hand on Benevenuta-Mélisande's cheek moving to brush a strand of newly-dark (new to her, at least) hair away from her face. "I couldn't sleep either."

She remembers and likes the half-flustered apologetic afterthoughts, the was I acting not-quite-properly again embarrassment. It's wonderful- pretty and sweet- but what Irene likes most about it is that it suggests she just saw something so real it has to be apologised for.

"At least my night's been more interesting than expected," she murmurs, something dry in her voice covering up something still distinctly shaken- and oh, when did quickly pushing a lock of hair from Mélisande's face become letting her fingers linger and stroke briefly over her cheek?

And why's she using the past tense, anyway? It's not over. Benevenuta is still here.