She smirked and stood up, pulling a blanket from the chest of drawers, wrapping it around herself. She tapped a few buttons on the TV and then turned to look at Francis. Pausing for only a moment, she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, engulfing his torso in the blanket.
Her fingers, thin and long, rubbed out knots of tension in his back as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Oh, that makes sense. Your mom is a good cook."
