Owen Moreland tilted his head slightly, his gaze casually sweeping over Amelia Clarke's legs.
Those legs, as white as milk, dazzled the eyes.
His eyes darkened, and then he looked away as if nothing had happened.
"Do you want to take a shower first?" Amelia Clarke asked, pushing Owen Moreland into the room.
Owen Moreland's voice was low, "Sure."
Amelia Clarke directly pushed him into the bathroom, then went to the walk-in closet to get his pajamas and underwear.
Returning to the bathroom and setting down the clothes, a thought struck Amelia Clarke, and she squatted down to lift the hem of Owen Moreland's trousers.
The ankle, which had been swollen like a steamed bun, had begun to reduce in swelling.
It seemed to be getting better.
"Does it still hurt?" Amelia Clarke looked up at Owen Moreland with concern in her eyes.