Separate names with a comma.
Francis checked the message he received before responding with a simple 'ok.'
"I can tell," he commented. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, mostly," she said. "I also draw abstract things sometimes, but I don't like to draw people. I think it's awkward."
"Of course," he said. "It was nice." With that, he stepped in and closed the door, the taxing leaving only moment's later.
"I'm fine," he said sharply, before leaning into hand and speaking with a mumble. "I'm just lucky he doesn't have as strong of a kick as I do."
"Good," he said, reaching up to give him a kiss. "Don't worry. You'll be able to see, soon."
He smiled at her. "I love you too," he said, opening the door. "I'll see you soon."
Francis sat uncomfortably at his desk. There was a bruise on the side of his face, and it seemed that any way be was sitting it would still be...
"I'll show you more artwork eventually," she said, smiling brightly. "I promise."
"Definitely," he said, leaning down to give her a kiss. "We'll figure something out."
(Yep)
She grinned, but shook her head. "Not this time!"
He kissed her cheek. "Nope."
"Yeah," he mumbled, going back to his car. Every step brought pain.
"Thank you," he said. "I did all the work extra quick as a distraction, so it worked out."
He turned his head, glaring at her with fierce eyes before toughing it out and getting up on his own. For him, it was painful, but he said nothing.
"No, no. I can't let you."
"No," he said. "It's not you, just the promotion."
He glared at her from the corner of his eye. "I don't need your pity."
"Thank you," she said with a grin. "I was hoping you would."
