Separate names with a comma.
"You're an artist. Thank you, draesling."
"All of them."
"You lost your husband."
"Trying out your new cooking skills."
"I'm not in the mood to fight again."
"I'm sorry I've ruined this vacation."
"You didn't have to do that..."
"I. Don't. Care."
"Hi," he said sleepily.
"Sure. Besides from the whole 'memory-wiped' thing, it's been great."
"Francis Craw," she said, a warm playfulness to her tone, "if you think sleep or death is going to stop me from inhaling 25 quesadillas, you...
He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.
"I'm just curious."
"Are you?" she asked tiredly. "They smell good."
He frowned, standing up and heading to the kitchen.
"It makes you happy."
She nodded slightly, leaning against him and closing her eyes.
He woke up about 15 minutes later, sitting up sleepily.
"Do you like Urela?"
"This'll stop eventually, right?"
