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"What he meant?" he looked bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
"I can't believe you did that."
She woke suddenly, sitting up, propping herself up with her hands.
“I would hate to have to cut a *squee!*.”
He looked confused, looking over at her curiously. “He doesn’t? What do you mean?”
Bubbles escaped his lips and he rose to the surface.
Poppy has fallen asleep in a groove between roots of an old oak tree.
"Thank you," she said, with evident relief.
"I don't know," he said after a moment. "I don't understand all this stuff. But I like holding your hand like this, even if it's not something we...
He was waiting for her.
(Yoop!)
"Spoken like a true mobster."
He considered this phenomenon, his thumb rubbing the palm of her hand idly. "Huh," he said thoughtfully.
He watched her fall, dipping below the surface.
She paused, glancing over her shoulder before sprinting off.
She raised an eyebrow before beckoning with her head. "This way."
He intertwined his fingers with hers, considering it. "Like this?"
"That was so well-planned and subtle!"
She nodded, taking another step back, retreating towards the safety of the trees as quickly and as subtlely as she could.
"Do you know the area?"
