Rachel is what you'd call a controllist.

"I like more about you than your body, Noah." She taps her fingers against his chest, sucking briefly at his bottom lip in return. "If you got fat, you'd still be the same person on the inside. Not that I'd let you. Being fit is essential to your safety-." Not the time for such talk, Rachel. She shrugs, glancing down at her breasts. "I suppose. I don't know. I'll think about it." She'd have to take them out an awful lot over the course of the show too, not that he knows that yet. They'll have to talk about it later.

She nods, pressing her face against his neck. "Don't care if it's clean. Not leaving the bed for a couple days anyway." Neither of them have obligations for the next few days. Until they get really married, it's as good as a honeymoon as they're gonna get. And maybe they'll decide to get up and go to Coney or have a picnic in Central Park or just hop in his truck and see where they end up. But first, they're going to come back here and do exactly what they're doing right now. But as husband and wife. "I don't want to go." Her fingers curl around him, her stroke firm as they reapproach the bed. "But tradition...just..." She whimpers, arching into his hands. "Next time we're here, I'll be your wife..."