[Phil has more than his fair share of scars as well, each telling their own story. He can't throw any stones on the damage front, and he wouldn't even want to. They may mar her perfect skin, but Phil is glad for each and every one — they're testaments to her surviving, and for that he's grateful. She wouldn't be here with him if she didn't, and the thought of losing her, losing this is shockingly painful to him.]
We're highly-trained operatives. I think we can handle a milk run. [A literal milk run, not a figurative one. It's...a little odd not to be talking in metaphors right now.]
Gladly. [It's more of a sigh than a spoken word, but Phil's already pulling her in closer with the arm around her back, his other hand sliding beneath her cheek to cup her face as he slides his lips against hers, his eyes closing.]
no subject
We're highly-trained operatives. I think we can handle a milk run. [A literal milk run, not a figurative one. It's...a little odd not to be talking in metaphors right now.]
Gladly. [It's more of a sigh than a spoken word, but Phil's already pulling her in closer with the arm around her back, his other hand sliding beneath her cheek to cup her face as he slides his lips against hers, his eyes closing.]