While the loose ends of both Jerome Shipton's fall and Edith's suicide itched at Dean's sense of logical completion, the matter in its entirety was so repugnant to him that he didn't want to think about it.
She itched to have her micro again, to look at the logs and hack into whatever she could to find the answers.
Dean itched to ask her how she was so sure it wasn't Mr. David Dean who dropped her hubby into space but she began to sob anew, making any further conversation impossible.
She itched to grab her micro or tap her ear and respond.
He couldn't protect anyone from Sasha in Hell, and he itched to taste the woman meant to be his mate.
He recalled how soothing her hug had been earlier and itched to feel her soft, warm body in his arms again.