With curls of hair falling like a curtain over his forehead Keane began to remove his fur jacket, watching Gwenyvere's pale face in case she stopped breathing out of the blues. He didn't even go for the drawer to settle his clothes there, when he was done with his camisole he left it all on the ground and went to pick up the sleeping beauty.
Maybe it was time he faced the truth and assume that the scorching feeling he felt at the bottom of his heart with each finger he laid on her was worry, a deep preoccupation almost like he was concerned about himself.