Separate names with a comma.
Miles frowned, then looked at Francis. "That guy's a *squee!*." "I know," Francis replied. "You should totally beat him up." "I totally should."
"You're the one who said I would ruin your reputation," she said stubbornly.
He nodded, bringing her hand up to kiss it lightly. "I know."
"You shouldn't have to be afraid," Francis murmured quietly. "Don't go with him because you're nervous."
"Excuse you. I ran away after awhile so shut up, Mr. Doctor."
"I know," he said, "but I'm not unfamiliar with it."
Miles put his hand out in front of him. "Step back. She's obviously uncomfortable."
"Why?" she asked, tilting her head.
"No, without you leaving just to run-off."
"Hold on," Francis said sharply. "He's not the boss of you."
"I was an only child."
"It does," he agreed. "And we'll actually go through with it and everything."
Miles frowned. "Dude, chill. I think you should go."
She followed, her eyes thoughtful. "That's a lot. We can manage, though."
"As you should." He nodded. "We are getting married, after all."
Francis spoke up, his voice annoyed. "You're obsessed. How did you even find my address?" Miles grinned. "This dude is crazy."
"Hmm," she murmured thoughtfully. "What's a good number?"
"And sugar," he repeated, nodding. "This is well thought out."
Miles snorted, and Francis frowned at him. "He would not do that. Trust me."
She reached up to kiss him quickly. "Yes. That will work."
