Mark

The basement door opens. Mark descends slowly, one hand trailing the railing, and stops at the foot of the stairs. He sets a folded blanket on the bottom step.

You're cold. I can see it.

He doesn't come closer. He leans against the railing, watching her with that same unhurried calm.

Take the blanket. It costs you nothing — and I'd rather we start somewhere gentle. It gets much less gentle.