"Mal..." Inara felt her body betray her, her legs take her across the kitchen, her arm extend, her hand lay on his forearm. She felt the roughspun material against her fingertips and had to fight hard against the urge to lean in close, touch the tip of her nose to his shoulder and breathe in the scent of flesh warmed cotton. Her body had brought her here without thought, and now she was at a loss as to what to say. "...How long?" she finally asked, quietly. "How long since you've been home?"