+ for evil. I think that’s enough to deserve anything your heart desires, Silas.”

The tug closer caused a warmth to spread through her chest that had nothing to do with Silas’ element, and it was far from something she was complaining about. He had a way of getting to her like no one else could, and his pride was something they both needed to see, His +

+ comment about a second meeting, though, had a brow lifting, hands resting on his chest before sliding back to entwine behind his neck. “Then I suppose that debt is repaid by now.”

Glancing over Silas Fletcher.’s shoulder at his text, a snort of amusement leaves her. She /should/ tell him, but . . .

“Oh, /fuck off/.” Drops Silas Fletcher.’s controller on the couch, glaring at the video game before her. He was taking a shower, so surely she could finish /one/ game before he got back.

S i g h s .

If he would prefer, she could interfere. One may end up nearly drowned in his own drink, but that’s not her problem.

Stepping forward, the blonde held up both of her hands, water from two nearby glasses moving over their mouths (but avoiding under their noses). “Gentlemen, is this any way to behave?”

The two men backed away, the witch stepping between them in order to watch them attempt to push the water away, blue eyes glowing. “I’m not the owner, but might I suggest a ban, then? If this is a reoccurring problem, that is.”

A glance towards him was shot from the woman, glowing eyes just staring for a moment before she finally returned the liquid to their intended glasses, eyes falling back on them as the glow dissipated. “You’re far softer on them than I would be. Gentlemen?”

The blonde finally enters the bar after a day out with his brother, a smile shot Silas’ way. It’s not often she goes into town, and less often she returns with a smile and 3 bags, but her mood is so light, she barely even notices the drunks passing her. “Evening, Silas~.”

She’s sneezed about 7 times in the past hour. If Silas Fletcher. got her sick, he’s sleeping on the couch.

The /couch/. Slim can have his spot.

. . . In the meantime, she’s gonna curl against him on the couch. He may have gotten her sick, but he’s still warm.

Good. It’s not as if he has a choice, especially since she’s already curled up on him.

Stop. She’s annoyed. He’s not allowed to be sweet like this.

. . . No. Can he reach the blanket from where he’s sitting?

She thanks him. Cue her burrowing in it and tugging it halfway over her face.

Sleep would be optimal, but until her sinuses clear up, he’ll have to settle with her simply curling against his chest and gripping his shirt. The couch tonight.

And within 10 minutes, she’s fallen asleep. She stated HE was sleeping on the couch. She never stated he was sleeping alone.