Just because she can, because he likes it so very much, she runs her hands through her hair, letting the chestnut waves spill against the red of her blouse-necked dress. It's not quite the pallor of her skin, or the soft cream of her petticoats and corsets, but it's a deeply tender, utterly flirtatious gesture.

(They'd never stopped flirting once they were married, never stopped taking the time to hold hands or kiss. She remembers Doctor van Helsing being gruffly amused at them more than once.)

"I promise I wasn't hypnotizing you," Mina teases softly.