Separate names with a comma.
"You've said it yourself!"
"I didn't mean to frighten you."
(Yoop!)
"No.. I'm not a good singer."
"You always worry."
"I don't mean to!"
He yawned, doing the same.
"We'll be okay."
He chuckled. "Sorry about that."
He set it down after a moment and picked up the guitar, strumming a few chords.
She kissed his cheek. "You shouldn't worry."
He came to the table, his head cocked.
He nodded, sitting at the desk and picking up a screwdriver and working on his arm.
He relaxed, his gaze gentle. "I love you too."
She nodded, her eyes warm. "I know you will."
Francis returned downstairs, his hair damp.
I kinda have to loosen up my arm with a screwdriver.
He glanced down. "Yeah?'
She moved closer to him. "I won't be.. You're here to help with that."
