"Shut up, I am a delight!"
"Shut up, I am a delight!" Daisy says, only half annoyed at Phil's obvious amusement at her condition.
His answering chuckle is low and a little bit dirty, and warmth spreads through her chest in response. He plants his hands on his hips and slowly looks her up and down – assessingly, not leeringly, although she supposes that technically he's allowed to leer since they're lovers. But Phil's not the sort to leer, she knows, so there's nothing remotely sexual in the way he examines her now. Instead, he's taking in the details of her appearance: both mud and blood are splattered fairly copiously over her field suit, though luckily it's not her blood; there's a bruise blooming on her right cheek where she hit the wall she was trying to use her powers to leap over when the explosion went off; a line of dried blood across her right temple, legacy of the same explosion, indicates where she was grazed by flying shrapnel; and her mud-and-blood-stained field suit is a bit tattered, also as a consequence of the aforementioned explosion.
"You may be a delight, Director," Phil says, his tone teasing, "but I'm sorry to say you don't look – " He pauses, moves a little closer, then scrunches up his nose in what Daisy considers a ridiculously adorable manner. "Or smell very delightful."
He lightly touches his left hand to her right elbow, a questioning look in his eyes, and she shakes her head. "No major damage to me," she tells him, knowing he wouldn't be satisfied without that assurance. "Just bumps and bruises, and the odd scrape." She sighs. "The silly assholes blew themselves up – and me, sort of – before I could even get close enough to talk to them, let alone fight them."
He nods, then wraps his hand more firmly, yet still carefully, around her elbow, and he leads her through the safehouse that's their base on this overseas mission, and into the bathroom.
"Do you want to tell me about it while I run you a bath?" he offers. "And then while you're in the bath, I'll make you something to eat."
"You're definitely a delight," she says emphatically, grinning at the slightly silly look of adoration he gives her – his 'hearteyes' as she calls them.
She leans in and kisses his cheek, then chuckles when she realises that she's left a smudge of dirt on his face. She goes to rub it off with her thumb, but he captures her wrist and holds it away from his face.
"Not gonna help," he points out, and she chuckles again, then lets him help her out of her clothes and boots, talking him through the aborted mission. She waits while he checks the temperature of the bath water, then gratefully clasps his left arm to steady herself as she steps into the bath – her body's beginning to crash now that the adrenaline's wearing off, and she can feel her muscles trembling from the shock of the explosion. She shivers, too, despite the warmth in the bathroom, but sitting down in the bathtub full of hot water is already starting to help.
Phil leans down and kisses her unbloodied temple, then lightly clasps her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Try not to fall asleep," he says. "I'm going to get some food together for you."
"Thanks, Phil," she says gratefully. "You're the best boyfriend a Director could ask for."
He grins crookedly at her, then crosses the bathroom to the door. Reaching it, he half turns to look at her, then says, "You are a delight."
She laughs quietly at his parting shot, then relaxes back into the tub with a soft sigh.