Separate names with a comma.
"I know, my love," he said quietly, brushing her hair back gently. "That was the plan."
She looked confused, following him and knocking on the door. "Abel?"
He hesitated before shrugging. "A little of both. But they won't *squee!* with me, Fleur."
She flinched involuntarily when he raised his voice, but tried to play it off. "I'm not, Abel. I'm not scared of you. You're my partner, for...
"The people I talk to? Some of them."
She hesitated, watching him go. "Please, Abel... don't make this a big deal... That's what she wants..."
"No," he replied quietly. "It's at the warehouse. I just need to talk to some people."
"No, I'm not," she protested, standing up quickly. "I'm not afraid..."
He glanced up at her before shaking his head. "I gotta. I won't be long."
"I'm not afraid," she said immediately, clutching her hands. "I'm not afraid of you."
"Sore," he muttered. "I gotta go back tonight."
She frowned, not standing up to approach him like she might have done a day prior. "It... it was a bad situation."
He sat heavily on the bed, his brow furrowed as he looked up at her.
She folded her arms, looking up at him nervously. "You don't need to apologize. Are you feeling better?"
He looked up at her, taking her hands. "Okay. Thank you, Fleur."
She looked up when he came out, her brow furrowed nervously. "Are you okay...?"
He looked over at her, his brows furrowed. "What would I do without you...?"
When the door closed, she hesitated, sitting on the edge of the bed, folding her hands nervously, her brows furrowed with worry. She closed her...
He groaned a little, his eyes fluttering closed at the pressure. "Ow... sorry..."
She went over to the washing and drying machines, switching the load over, her shoulders tight and her brows furrowed.
