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[aggressiveapathy]

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[textualhealing]

What? No!

[aggressiveapathy]

Or I will. I can't deal with you angsting. It makes sharkbait humping your dirty jeans just...depressing.

[textualhealing]

[The whiniest groan!]

Ugggggh. Fine. What if... I promise you I'll ask her like. In the next week?!

[aggressiveapathy]

You've got ten minutes. And remember: I'm scarier than you.

[textualhealing]

I know you are! That's why I entirely regret telling you this. Ten days! That's my final offer.

[aggressiveapathy]

Hours.

[textualhealing]

Nnngh. Seven days. Please. [Puppy eyes!] Please. I'll do all your chores for this week.

[aggressiveapathy]

[ There is a long pause. ]

Deal. But you keep doing them for a year if you wuss out.

[textualhealing]

Deal! You won't regret it. I probably will but I will deal with that regret one week from now.

[aggressiveapathy]

That's why you're my favorite grown up.

[textualhealing]

That and my coolness, right?

[aggressiveapathy]

I don't work here anymore. I don't have to lie to you.

[textualhealing]

... But could you lie anyway? I'll give you scotch.

[aggressiveapathy]

You're the coolest.

[textualhealing]

Correct. [As he withdraws a half drunk bottle of scotch and two glasses from a drawer under his desk.

One each, and April even gets hers poured first, filling it to a generous amount. It's not until Jeff's got his own alcohol that he finally speaks again.]

So what do I even say to her?

[aggressiveapathy]

Pass her a note that says 'bone me and only me, maybe.'

[textualhealing]

Classy, I like it. And an unblinking stare while she reads it?

[aggressiveapathy]

Obviously. After you break into her house and wait for her to get home, first.

[textualhealing]

Jokes aside, I'm pretty sure she'd be into that one.

[aggressiveapathy]

I like her more and more.

[textualhealing]

Yeah. She's pretty great.

[:3]