Separate names with a comma.
"I dunno, actually," he said. "Tom is fluffy, so it wouldn't be too bad."
Her hand brushed his cheek as her voice quieted. ".. Am not."
He huffed jokingly. "Fine."
She raised an eyebrow. "Am not."
"Then Tom is a bad dog for eating Finn. Nobody eats Finn."
"Am not!" she argued, the grin on her face growing wider.
"I wouldn't mind Tom sleeping in the bed," Francis said matter-of-factly. "Fish have feelings too, though."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Am not!"
"Aw," he muttered. "But I guess not good enough to sleep on the bed. Picky picky picky."
She nodded, and bright smile on her face. "Yes you are, you liar!"
He snapped his fingers. "Clear water bed. He will live in there."
"Yuh huh."
Francis frowned playfully. "Really? Darn."
She kissed his forehead, her hands cupping his jaw. "Yes you are."
"I promise! He's a good fish!"
"Aww." She grinned. "You're so cute. I love you."
"Great," he responded cheerfully. "I'm sure you'll like him."
She grinned. "You get butterflies when I'm with you?"
"Not really," he said. "Is it okay if I bring Finn to your apartment tonight?"
"I don't want to make you nervous," she told him. "I want you to feel only good things."
