Fae isn't sure what Keelan's intentions are when he approaches him, until his face is suddenly full of towel and he's sputtering beneath it. His hands shoot out when Keelan starts drying him, grabbing at his chest and shoulder but lacking any actual conviction to shove him away. Instead, he just kind of keeps a half-hearted grip on him, huffing and grunting as Keelan's fingers work into his hair past the soft fabric. When it finally pulls back from his face to hang over his head like a veil, it's revealed that Fae is the one pouting now, his cheeks lightly touched with red.

Keelan is right of course. Fae would have escaped eventually, but that one decision Keelan made - driven by kindness, spontaneity, or plain lust, Fae doesn't know - but that one decision to trust him sparked something Fae couldn't have seen happening mere hours ago.

Slowly, his hands slide from Keelan's upper body to rest lightly at his torso. He lifts his head a bit, peeking out from beneath his towel-veil to admire Keelan's unblemished skin under his fingertips, comparing it to his own, riddled with burns and scars - constant reminders of a never-ending war for ownership over his own body.

Then his stomach growls.

Startled from his serious thoughts, Fae's head drops with a short laugh. His hands fall away from Keelan as he pushes the towel from his hair. "M'hungry," he announces.