Separate names with a comma.
"No, I'm literally lame."
"I'm going to sleep here, and you can't stop me."
He seemed bewildered, looking over at her nervously.
"Well, let's talk about it. Do we... I don't know. Do we run away?"
He noticed, frowning. "What is it?"
"It's embarrassing," he said sheepishly. "I feel so lame."
She grinned before closing her eyes, pulling him closer. "Excellent."
He looked mildly alarmed, raising an eyebrow. "You want to... kiss me?"
She fell silent, her brows furrowing. "So... do we have a plan at all?"
"Maybe it's to Saint Nicholas."
They made it up the stairs and he tentatively tried stretching the wing again, wincing from the sensation. "Ow."
She paused before propping his chin up on his sternum, looking up at him. "Is that alright?"
"Probably. I've managed to live through a lot worse."
"You're clearly not, Francis, nor should you be."
"Is it to my sister?"
"I certainly hope so."
"Yeah," she said quietly, reaching up to kiss his jawline. "You make me so happy. It's ridiculous."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"Talk to me."
He patted her shoulder with a small grin. "Silly Avice."
