Separate names with a comma.
"I like you too, but you don't like cute things."
She looked at the ground, not saying anything.
He picked out a light gray shirt, cocking his head.
"No. You don't like cute things. That's bad."
"Jack, growing up with parents who aren't fond of each other doesn't sound spectacular. I doubt she would like it."
He nodded. "Of course."
"Uh, everything?"
"That's not what I said," she replied angrily, tears springing into her eyes at the heavy emotions. "I wouldn't gave picked anyone at all if I...
He glanced at her. "When will we be leaving?"
"Being cute brings joy."
"No," she said fiercely. "You shouldn't have. If this is how it is then you definitely should not have picked me."
Francis got dressed, his eyes warm.
"Joy?"
"You shouldn't have chosen me, then," she muttered. "You shouldn't have chosen anyone at that point."
Francis emerged from the bathroom, towel around his waist.
"Why would you think that?'
"If you don't trust me, then why did you ever come back to me?"
(Zoop?)
"No it isn't!"
She watched him, searching his expression. "That's your choice."
