He's outside, watching the stars from the balcony off the living room. It's reassuring, the way they never really change. It's the same starfield he'd looked at in Mexico, the same one he'd stared at from rooftops in Philadelphia. He'd planned on hunting anyway, but as he'd run through the woods toward town the smell of animal blood had veered him off-course. He'd come across a fat rabbit in a snap-trap, illegal in the area, and after he'd quickly put it out of its misery and filled himself up, he'd dropped the trap off at Chief Swan's office on his way whipping through town. Can't have poachers that close to the house.

"I did," he says as she speaks, and he turns to lean back against the railing, hands resting against the wood at the small of his back. "Before I acquired something for you. I wouldn't have wanted it to get cold, waiting on me." His eyes burn a bright amber, the lightest color they get, and she may not be able to read him the way he can read her, but she'll see he's grown settled after hunting in this familiar place.

He can still smell her from here, the sharp, enticing scent that will send a little part of him howling every time he catches it on the air, but it's submerged now beneath her wet hair, Esme's shampoo, and that's Emmett's shirt if he isn't mistaken. There's no better time, he thinks. "I am not going to get close to you," he says slowly, and he isn't moving, not one bit, he's only taking a breath when he needs the air to speak. "You are. Come over here."