A slight hiss escapes when her jaw shows mercy, and he flexes his fingers to encourage the blood back into the divots she's left behind. Sweeney shifts stiffly to get his forearm off her back, pushing first to hands and knees before steadying enough to straighten to bring his hands to her hips. He waits there for a moment, letting them both prepare before he withdraws with a wince. The cool air is not welcome after the warmth of being inside her.

Sweeney flops on his back next to her, pulling down a cigarette from behind his ear.

"An' twice on Sunday," he manages, the words still ragged.

Sweeney digs in his pocket for his lighter, his intent to see it lit and the first drag savored before offering it to her.