Separate names with a comma.
He was still asleep the next day, his head on the back of the couch.
She stood as well, heading to the kitchen.
He had closed his eyes, eventually sleeping as well.
She nodded, sighing. "Want to get some water?"
He stretched his arms, watching the show.
She sighed, running her hand through her hair with a frown. "I hate that."
He nodded, leaning back. "Yeah. I like documentaries."
She always hated this feeling, feeling uncomfortable in the time warp.
He took it, crossing his legs. "I'm okay with anything, really."
She grinned. "That's true."
He sat down. "Yeah. That sounds nice."
"Direct hit," she said, holding on.
He smiled. "I was planning on it. I don't have to."
She watched, her eyes sharp.
He rolled his eyes, his expression playful. "Excuses, excuses."
She glanced back at him before looking out again. "Hopefully that will work."
"That counts as sick."
She frowned. "I think they'll make an attack. We need to be careful about this."
"Yeah," he said, leaning against the counter. "But you're sick."
Amira got to her position, peering out to get a better read of the situation.
