If I weren't afraid you'll catch your death of cold I'd be touched. Maybe in a bit.

[ Fjord's clothes hit the floor with a heavy splat, having walked in the rain to find petrol and sat in a soggy puddle in his car all the way home. He hauls on some sweats and a clean tshirt, the novelty of being naked (however briefly) around Molly overshadowed by the way they're both shivering, and drags down the thick duvet on his bed with a pat to let Molly know where to park himself. ]

Hop in and warm up, I'll grab some towels for our hair.

[ A kiss is given as he passes by, Fjord's smile meeting Molly's lips through it. ]