Separate names with a comma.
He tucked her hair behind her ear reassuringly. "Not too bad. It's just that Phos said I should ice it consistently."
"Any of them. Just... Not that one." He shook his head, looking down. "I think I'm going to go find somewhere I can get ice. I need it for my wrist."
"Oh, but any of those are better. Please just spare me and never call me that again." He looked down at her, his eyes pleading. "I beg of you."
"Oh my god, please don't call me that. It's the worst." He cringed, but meant it all in good fun.
"Don't punish me that way," he said sarcastically. "I didn't do anything to deserve that."
He squeezed her hand, still grinning. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I've just never heard that word before." (Toooo good!)
Cereal
"Did you just call me a goofus?" He laughed, putting on a hand on his head. "A goofus? Really?" (I had a similar reaction to that. Frickin' goofus)
He laughed and shook his head. "Well, at least I know I'm important to you, especially after you told me you'd cry if I died after drinking...
"That's exactly what we got. I'd say we're pretty important," he replied, holding his head high.
"I might, but Mr. Jeremiah said that we were pretty important, so I also might not be. You can never be sure," he said, matter-of-factly.
"We just write a formal request on a note for a specific date off, give it to whoever is in charge, and wait for approval, which shouldn't take...
"I don't mind. Saying different things at meetings gets so unnecessary," he said, starting to walk back to the rooms. "Hm. At least we don't have...
He smiled affectionately at her, the happiness was contagious. "Good job. I'm proud that you managed to say something."
Francis did the same, following her and opening it. "Have a good evening."
He scanned the sheet, tapping his chin. "Mrs. Irvine is an over-thinker. I believe that's the last thing you need to know," he said. "You will...
"We'll have overseers join you this time. They will be armed with concealed weapons, just in case," he said, his tone was informal. "You'll be...
(Yep!) Francis followed her in, taking a seat at his regular spot. Owen regarded them a nod, tapping his papers on the table to organize them....
"We'll have to write on of those letters, or file for time off. I'm sure it'll get figured out," he said, opening the door.
"Of course! I mean, why wouldn't I?" He looked down at her, smiling. "Sounds like it'd be nice."
