Separate names with a comma.
He sighed and stood up, turning towards her so he could kiss her forehead. "I don't know. I don't know what to do. I'm just scared, I think."
She shifted, her eyes fluttering open. "Mm," she mumbled. "Did you just wake up?"
"Don't tell me not to worry about you." He crossed his arms. "I always will."
(Yeah)
"They used a defibrillator on you, Poppy."
(Time skip?)
"You could have died. That's what the nurse said."
She lightly kissed his neck before closing her eyes again, letting herself drift off. It did not take long before she fell asleep.
"Troubled thoughts," he admitted, reaching up to kiss her cheek. "I worried about you. Did you rest well?"
"Right here?" she questioned, asking more for permission than anything else.
He shifted, and his hands moved to tiredly rub his eyes as he woke slowly. "...Poppy?"
She was relaxed, and shut her eyes for a moment, but quickly opened them for fear she would fall asleep right there. "Heh.. I may or may not...
Francis had ended up falling asleep in the chair. He didn't quite wake up yet, but stirred.
"I shouldn't have gotten frustrated," she replied, looking up at him.
She frowned, but it only made her embrace more sure. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"I love you," he replied thoughtfully, standing up and stretching, only to sit back in a chair quietly, crossing his arms as he relaxed and shut...
"Hm," she mumbled thoughtfully. "Maybe you shouldn't have gotten drunk in the first place."
"Yeah," he replied quietly. "It is now. Just go back to sleep. Everything is fine."
"Good, good," she said tiredly, her hands resting easily on his back. "I would hope it's not bad."
