[That may be either optimistic or pessimistic, depending on one's view of things, but this is not something Felix and his watch are bothering to take measure of. He stays coherent long enough to remember to hit the stop button when the doors close. After that everything is a blur of need and desire, reassurance and release, the comfort of pure physicality. Maybe it's a reminder too, whether Dean means it to be or not, of the other things he won't ever feel again if he chooses what he's always meant to choose.
However much time passes, whatever the intention, he's left grinning and breathless, hands fumbling a little as he puts himself back together. He wipes his mouth, tucks his shirt back in, toys with his clothes and his hair and his pockets until he feels presentable again. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, still slightly flushed and bright-eyed, energized.]
Spam
However much time passes, whatever the intention, he's left grinning and breathless, hands fumbling a little as he puts himself back together. He wipes his mouth, tucks his shirt back in, toys with his clothes and his hair and his pockets until he feels presentable again. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, still slightly flushed and bright-eyed, energized.]
So... CES?