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Francis backed off this time, a frown on his face. "Poppy?"
She grinned. "Love you."
She crossed her arms. "I practiced a lot. Nor did I say it was good. Besides.. It was like.. frankenstein of old backpacks." *** He did as...
(Heueiww)
She kissed him deeply, her hands grasping his shirt carefully.
"Just regular clothes, backpacks. Y'know." *** He nodded quietly. "Alright.."
He shut his eyes, quickly falling asleep a few minutes later.
She was quiet for a moment before going to his side. "Babe?"
"Yeah," she said warmly, "quite often." *** He crossed his arms. "I could sleep on the couch."
"Shh," he murmured softly. "You're sleeping."
She nodded sternly. "Yes."
"Oh! I'll try that, then." *** "Why's that..?"
He went back to laying down, a frustrated sigh escaping him.
She shunned him. "Fine."
She raised an eyebrow. "I'll have literally anything else." *** He hesitated. "Unless you don't want me to.."
"If I'm not allowed to help, then there is less say, but I agree that I will still listen," he replied, his voice cold.
"I'm not!" she said fiercely, glaring playfully at him.
He gave him a small grin. "What's your favorite?" *** "I'd appreciate that.."
He blocked her again. "She wasn't lying," he said sharply. "I spoke with her myself. Therefore, you can wait."
She gasped. "I am not an alcoholic!"
