[There's the laugh he really wanted. He files the memory of it under the little file folder labeled the /TheWoman in his mental hard drive, along with the scent of her perfume and the shade of her lipstick and every other little detail he's gathered up in there like a squirrel protectively hoarding nuts for winter.]
Up. I can't do this with you in my lap.
[Technically, he's supposed to do it in hers, but he doesn't plan on it going that far.]
no subject
Up. I can't do this with you in my lap.
[Technically, he's supposed to do it in hers, but he doesn't plan on it going that far.]