Mmm. [ she’s mid-swig on her own beer when he finally picks, even if she’s only taking a small pull next to his draining. good thing she’d went and bought that extra six pack for a rainy day, but now that she’s here on the couch with him, his warmth seeping outward along her side where they’re gently pressed together, she doesn’t want to get up again for a while.

it’s a title she’s never heard of and she thinks it might be vaguely porny because it’s duplicity and everything they do is designed to cater to at least one thing, but she snuggles in against him anyway, shifting so her back is tucked into the corner of his arm, one of her arms gently draped on top of his leg as her empty fingers trace invisible letters and symbols on his knee. ]

Oh, shit, I know what this reminds me of. Die Hard. [ even though this thing is only loosely following some sense of plot. ] You ever heard the debate about how some folks think it’s a Christmas movie?