"What happened to your hand?" Cressida noticed his reddened hand back, saw the water marks on the table, and the steaming cup of water. "Did you scald yourself?"
"It's nothing, just a small burn."
"Just a small one?" Not caring about the pain in her legs, Cressida grabbed his wrist and walked him over to the sink, turned on the cold water, and put his hand under it, letting the water repeatedly rinse it.
The heating was on in the room. She had changed into a long, cream-colored sweater dress, revealing her delicate, tender white ankles, looking anxious and tense.
"How could you carelessly burn yourself? You're not a three-year-old child anymore."
"Make sure it doesn't affect your work after the New Year."
...
Cressida looked at the large reddened area on his hand back, frowning heavily, completely unaware of how close they were, only his voice right by her ear, "Cressida."
That address, it sounded so affectionate.
