2019-05-27 - All those dice rolls and still nothing happened.

it's been a few days since Lukas Collins was dropped off at the hospital and put under Elise's care. Elise has been notably absent around the house except to drop into bed at random hours, though that wasn't necessarily strange considering she burns the candle at both ends. And at least there wasn't a notable absence of food in the fridge, so Graham should stay relatively happy (or at least full).

But today was [insert random day here], and that was Elise's day off, which explains why she was in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with her elbows on the surface. She's dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a turquoise-coloured tank-top, her hair bundled up in a high ponytail. And she's got her phone pressed to her ear, speaking in rapid-fire Thai and sounding irritated, so it was probably her mother on the other end.

There was no food cooking though, which begs the question: why the hell is she in the kitchen and not doing her job?!

Life for Graham has been better than life for some people - those guys on the boat (who are dead) and Lukas Collins, among others. He brought the cat home, and has been calling her just Mew-Mew, since it turns out she wasn't a "mister" after all, so she lost her title. But, between Elise working and Graham working and them both basically living lives on opposite ends of the clock, there's not been a whole lot of overlap. Till [insert random day].

As is his custom, he falls out of bed a bit late in the morningafternoon, and then drops down the stairs, finding the kitten at the base of them, attacking a spot of sunlight on the banister. He scoops her up, scritchy scritchy, and ducks his way into the kitchen in his undershirt and his boxers and his blinking at all this rapid Thai yelling going on. 'Morning,' is what he mouths at Elise, not saying it 'cause she's clearly in the middle of something over there.

He'll just - wtf, there's not even coffee going? He dumps the kitten onto the floor and makes some, grr.

Elise's dark eyes lift up to watch Graham walking into the kitchen with the kitten, the whole scene temporarily catching her off-guard. And, aww, it would've made her heart melt if she wasn't busy jumping down her mother's throat through the phone. She lifts a finger up to him - 'one sec' - and frowns into the receiver. "No," is a universal word. "No. No. Okay, fine, bye." And then she stabs her finger into the screen to end the call. "Fuck," she mutters, setting the phone down on the counter and pushing it away from her.

"Morning," she finally says aloud, walking over to scoop Mews off the floor where Graham abandons her. "Sorry,I haven't.." a hand is waved absently around the kitchen to indicate what she hasn't done yet. Her one responsibility! On top of all the others. "Whatever. There's cereal." And she steps over to the pantry to make sure Mew-Mew gets her breakfast.

Graham calls out, "Bye!" To make sure Elise's mom hears him before she hangs up. Yanno, just to really pollute the waters there. "Do I wanna know?" What they were arguing about? He's a little slow in the, uh, mornings, so it takes his eyes a second to figure out how to follow her waving around the kitchen, and then a second longer for him to make any sense of what Elise is trying to communicate with the gesture, brows knitting confusedly.

There, the penny dropped. "Oh. It's fine." And it really is, the amount of ill-will that he bears because she hasn't cooked-and-clean is pretty much nil. Sure, he appreciates having a roommate that pays for everything and cooks and cleans, but expecting it... enh. He does thing to get the coffee pot working, with the grounds and the water and stuff, waiting to find out what happened with her mom.

Elise's eyes cross towards the bridge of her nose at his 'bye'. And as Elise walks away from the phone? It starts buzzing all over again, 'MOM' coming up on the screen. "Thanks," she grumbles, but she opts to make things worse by not picking up.. and instead focusing on the little kitten, that makes adorable sounds as Elise nuzzles her nose into Mew-Mews' fur. "She has suitors," she explains whilst disappearing into the walk-in pantry, shuffling things around. Her voice is subtly muffled, but she keeps talking anyway. "Her words. Not mine. At this point, I'm surprised she doesn't just call me down to the church and surprise me with a fucking wedding."

She re-emerges with a can of cat food and a box of cereal in one hand, Mew-Mews still tucked underneath her other arm. While he makes the coffee, she gets Mew ready to eat, setting her on the counter. Then she goes about filling bowls for cereal. It might be a half-assed breakfast, but hey. He gets to eat. All the while, she's bitching (so good morning, Graham): "I just don't understand why she can't take no for an answer! One of the guys she wants be to go out with is thirty five, THIRTY FIVE! What would I even have in common with somebody that fucking old?"

Again, Graham is not the quickest on the uptake, not least because he hasn't had coffee yet. "Your mom has suitors?" Like, for herself?! "Oh. Gotcha. Tell her you're a lesbian." His shaggy morning smile is not helping, and he knows this, but he flashes it anyway while tapping on top of the coffee maker, plz hurry machine. It percolates slowly, heedless of his need for caffeine.

"Hey, if she surprises you with a wedding, can I be your maid of honor?" Beat. "'Cause, if not, I'm gonna be the guy that stands up when they ask if anyone has any objections..." The '...' is to imply all the many things he might say in front of a whole church full of people, given the opportunity. A low whistle falls out of him about the age of her mom's newest attempt to pin her down, and he tries, "I'm guessing he's probably Asian, at least? So you guys would have that in common? And maybe he'd be a sugar-daddy, you could get him to keep me in the lifestyle to which I've become accustomed. Thanks." For the cereal.

Elise pauses in the middle of her cereal-making to turn her head and just stare at him. "Right. Right. Tell her I'm a lesbian, so she can have me kidnapped in the middle of the night and shipped off to some kinda gay conversion camp. Sounds like a fucking fantastic idea," she breathes out, frowning as she returns to pouring cereal into the bowl. She aggressively pours in the milk. "How about this? If she marries me off, you do me a solid and put on the dress and you marry the dude. We'll put a veil on you and he won't even know the difference until the kiss! And then it's too fucking late, but I'll be saved." He won't be, but that's besides the point.

She shoves the cereal bowl at him and trudges over to the kitchen table, slumping into a chair. Mew-Mews jumps off the counter and climbs onto Elise's lap, curling up. It's the only thing, in the moment, that seems to relax her. "I don't know," if he's Asian or not, "We didn't really get to the point of her describing him to me. I'm sure she'll text a picture later," and he gets a narrowing of her eyes. "He's a CPA, so the most boring profession in the entire world. But hey, if you're into that, and want to be a kept man? I'll totally send him your phone number instead of mine."

"But - " Graham is jumping through some mental hoops here. " - then. Won't that mean they send me off to gay conversion camp?" There's a long pause after that, while the coffee percolates, and he finally realizes, "I guess, since I'm straight, that actually might not be so bad for me. A'ight, sign me up. I'll marry your guy." He brushes a hand down the front of his undershirt, adding, "I look good in white." Even white splashed with cereal milk, which is what he winds up wearing when she shoves cereal at him. He takes it, uncomplainingly, and scoops a couple bites before setting it aside to line up coffee cups.

"I could use somebody to get my finances in order for me, sure. Since I should probably, like, pay rent or something around this joint." And he must have made some money robbing a boat the other night, so he even has a few bucks to spare. "But you better tell him that I don't put out on the first date. Or the second. Or, uh, any of them. Y'know what? Just tell him I'm a virgin and I'm saving myself for marriage."

"Look, this isn't about you. It's about me," Elise replies, dipping her spoon into her cereal but doing little more than stirring around the rice crispies in the milk. "And this is about you doing something good for me after throwing me into a life of crime." She pauses to admire him with a flick of her dark gaze, settling on the white-on-white of the milk stained cotton shirt. "You do look good in white, though," she agrees, a single brow climbing as she keeps her gaze level with his shirt.

Okay, there is a very quick drop of her eyes to his boxers, but she's like ninja fast, so maybe he doesn't see. Either way, she looks back to her cereal and scoops some into her mouth. "It's going to be hard to keep up the virgin story once you actually get married. But whatever. Maybe this is all a blessing in disguise! I'll just tell everybody my mother hooks me up with that I'm the night nurse for a notorious crime lord and I can't put them in jeopardy."

Ouch. He is totally going to see that quick glance. Like whoa.

Graham notices the shit out of her wandering eyes, tyvm, buy some stealth already. He could let it go, but please; he points to his face and says, "Up here, baby," like he's just so offended that she's not looking him in the eyes during this conversation. He even sniffs and says something about being objectified while he pours out the coffee for the both of them. He takes both cups by the handles in one hand, and his cereal bowl in the other, and brings it all over to the table so he can eat like a human, sitting down.

"By the time that matters," the virgin-thing, "me and my new hubby will be at Camp Hetero, and wouldn't you know it! I'm the first guy that actually got converted out of the gay lifestyle." He smiles a darling smile and starts drinking coffee. The cup gets lowered slowly, and he makes an O out of his lips, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I dunno if you ought to be planning to tell people about the crime lord thing. You really need a better cover-story." Here's an idea! "Tell her you and I are making babies, and she can get off your damn case."

Oh, Elise looks back up to where he's pointing, with a not-so-subtle roll of her eyes. She's not blushing, you're blushing, fuck off. "I was just wondering if those were the same boxers I saw on your floor the other day. You are gross," she recovers easily, and that's not where her failure of a roll will come into place. "Thank you," for the coffee, adds, taking a big sip while he talks about how gay conversion camp will heal him of his gayward ways. It makes her snicker. "You'll be lauded as a miracle. Hallelujah, Jesus has saved you," she flashes him a grin.

And then she goes back to eating another spoonful of cereal while he talks about how she shouldn't mention the crime-lord thing to anybody, only to start choking when he reveals his brilliant idea. Don't worry about giving her CPR, she smacks her fist into her chest solidly a few times, coughing wetly. At least she doesn't throw her cereal back up again. "Shit, fuck, ugh."

"Maybe," they're the same boxers. "Boxers pretty much all look the same, yanno? They smelled clean, anyway." Graham probably exaggerates exactly how gross he is. Probably. His shrug is unconcerned with the matter, frankly, and he puts more cereal and more coffee into his face, along with a cheerful nod about him being a miracle, which he totally will be!

Then she almost chokes, and his eyes get big, but he doesn't choke right back. Half out of his chair, he drops back down once she starts with the cursing, and he drags up another of his better smiles, just for her. "You all right over there?" Like he has no clue why she might get flustered enough to almost choke and die. Gosh, Elise, what could be wrong?! It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that, "We'd have cute fucking kids, she'll be happy."

Elise can't even look at Graham right now, so his awesome smile was for naught. She claps her hand against her chest again, red in the face and cheeks positively burning. "You're fucking ridiculous," she wheezes in response to the question of whether or not she's okay. She's fine, everything is fine, she just needs to swallow some coffee in order to wash down all the cereal that went down the wrong tube.

Of course, the second she takes a swallow of the coffee, he goes mentioning how cute their kids will be and she starts choking all over again. Excuse her while she tries to crawl literally under the table. "Stop! Oh my god!" she was going to die.

"I'm just saying. They will be." Fucking cute, he means. "Obviously, one of them is going to look like a little Aryan." He means himself, and Graham uses his cereal spoon to gesture to his blue-eyed, blond-haired head, lashes a-bat. "And the other one - I dunno, the big brown eyes and the black hair, so people will always kind of have to stop and do a double-take to figure out if it's white or not." <-- Professional Bullshitter, he rattles this off like it's an indisputable fact.

And finishes his cereal with aplomb. "So there. Tell your mom to relax. In, like, ten months? She'll have herself a three-quarters-white bastard she can show off to all her friends." (The ones that Felix hasn't brutally murdered, anyway.)

Graham was going to have to explain to Felix how he killed the nurse and now there was no one to patch up Andre when he gets bullet-holed. Really, Elise was just going to die right here and now, over cereal, coffee and Mew-Mew, while he goes on about their fantasy 3/4th white babies. At least once the choking subsides, the laughter picks up, and she's no longer very white considering she's bright red in the face. "Fuck me," no, seriously, he should. "I guess if we're gonna give her a bastard grandbaby in ten months, we better get started. Should you take me out to dinner first? Or do you just wanna nail me over the table?"

"I just ate cereal." Pragmatic Graham dips his forehead toward the empty bowl with the spoon in it, pressing his coffee-free hand to his stomach like it's all full up from Rice Krispies. "So dinner really doesn't sound good right now. Plus, that's a lot of effort. I'd have to take a shower, put on clothes. Put gas in the car. Drive somewhere. Make up shit to talk about all night." His dates must be awesome. "Then it's awkward, 'cause we live together, whose room are we doing this in? If it's yours, can I still sleep in my own bed? If it's mine, are you a covers-thief? 'Cause I can't stand that shit."

He leans back from the table, sighing hugely. "If fucking on the table is on the table? Way easier." He presses on it with his palms; to see if it's sturdy, and even leans down to look at the legs and stuff, like he knows the first thing about tables.

What's the age-old saying? It's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt? Look, Elise was fine laughing about it until he made it all out to sound like dating her would be some kind of gigantic chore, and then the laughter starts to taper off. She wasn't exactly subtle about the change in expression, either - it starts with the faint furrow of her brow, and then she's up out of her seat. "Wow, Graham, you're such a romantic," she quips back in a mumble, taking his bowl and her own to carry it over to the sink, where she could frown with her back to him. She knew, inwardly, she had no right to get upset, it really isn't like he ever gave her any indication there was something between them anyway. But the lack of consideration of them being anything but a joke? Okay. It stings.

But she wasn't going to say anything. She'll just be over here, aggressively washing the dishes, and mustering up another laugh at her own expense. "The counter would probably be sturdier. But I'm not dressed right for counter-or-table fucking anyway. Besides, you know, what if it doesn't take? Then we'd have to do it again, and it becomes a whole thing, and.." she waves a hand dismissively through the air. "Anyway, I'm sure you're full up on things. I'm sure there's a dozen girls at the club all willing to get up on your.. week old boxers or whatever." She even makes that sound very casual, like it doesn't bother her whatsoever!

She's not being very subtle, but it must be subtle enough. Graham maaaaaaybe gets a little bitty tiny hint that she's not finding his cavalier attitude toward their imaginary date funny, but it takes a while for that to sink in. All the way till she gets to calling him a romantic and ditching the table where they're supposed to be banging, leaving him looking up and over with brows climbing. All this while the kitten is pouncing around the kitchen, attacking random things - a spot of light on the floor, a single Rice Krispie, Elise's feet rawr! So at least she's having a good time still~.

He pokes his tongue against the inside of his mouth for a second, changing the shape of his lips while she's aggressively cleaning up, ehrm. "I don't wanna make babies with club tramps." He should shut up before he ruins it, should just leave his chin on the heel of his hand, leaning on his elbow and looking at Elise all starry-eyed as long as she's not going to look back. But - "They'll probably want child support."

Elise huffs quietly under her breath as she scrubs at the bowls. She could just put them in the dishwasher, that's what it was there for, but she needs the time with her back to him. She does lift her foot to swat it at the kitten though, and that provides enough decent distraction to calm her down. Just a bit. Until he says that part about the child support, and she snorts. "So, what? I'm good enough to make babies with because I won't ask you for money?" she hides the bitter on her tongue well enough, but then shoves the bowls into the drying rack beside the sink a little too firmly.

"Well," she decides, wiping her wet hands on the ass of her yoga pants and making wet streaks along the fabric. "What do I need a man for anyway? I have Mew-Mew," she dips to collect the kitten, and Graham better collect himself and those stars in her eyes, because she's turning back to drop a look at him. "And men just.." her dark gaze falls on his own, her slim brows furrowing. ".. well. They just don't understand." Isn't that right, Mew-Mew? The kitten purrs in agreement.

Yeahno. Graham doesn't bother chasing away that stardust when Elise turns back. If she wants to get all pissy at his CLEARLY AMAZING JOKES, then she can just do it while staring down the barrel of all the hearts that answer her return look. He maintains the same posture, chin in his hand, leaning forward on his elbow on the edge of the table next to the empty dishes - that he will wash and put away in a minute, quit being so judgmental! - and he lets her talk shit about his whole gender without interrupting.

And he says all dreamily, "You're good enough to make babies with 'cause you make me wish I wasn't just bullshitting, Elly. If I thought, for a second, that I had a shot at a future? It'd be with you." One shoulder shrugs, like oh well, sucks that's not in the cards.

Graham's SOUL IS BARED, apparently.

If there ever was a time for a Moment, it'd be right then and there, when Elise's gaze settles on his own and she knows, she just knows, that that look? It wasn't just an act. Her expression even softens, the furrow of her brow relaxing, and she skims her teeth over the corner of her bottom lip, a contemplative gesture. Like she was trying to think of the right thing to say, before he opens his own mouth and all those words come tumbling out.

And maybe it was his tone. Or maybe it was the nonchalant way he shrugs his shoulders and eagerly commits to a future where that was not Meant to Be. Or maybe it was the fact that she didn't want to be the fool who thinks she knows he's not bullshitting, when everything up to this point has been a lie.

"You really fucking suck sometimes, Graham," she's just going to be blunt here, and she pets Mew-Mew on the head before letting the kitten down to scamper and slide under the table, on chase of another rice crispy. And Elise edges towards the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, frowning down to her toes. "For like half a second there, I really thought you were being honest."

Graham... set his stupid self up for that, what with all the tongue-in-cheek shit he's always spewing. It's too bad she's looking so studiously at her toes right now, because the amount that he wants her not to just dismiss that as glib is stark for a few seconds. His eyes are sadly hopeful, and his frown is deep beneath the creases in his forehead from the pull of his brows.

But. Again. He sets himself up for not being taken seriously, so he's got no one to blame but himself. Specifically, his stupid fucking mouth. Which he does not open again. In fact, he so firmly doesn't open it that he actually shifts the lay of his chin so his palm covers his lips now, shutting the fuck up and just continuing to look at her with those kinda-sad-now eyes of his. Which is pointless, since she's all staring at her feet.

All things considered? It was best that she stares at her (not covered in crazy callouses) feet, because she'd just misunderstand the sad eyes anyway. She abuses her bottom lip for another tick in time, awkwardly just standing there in the silence that grows between them. For a moment, for a very brief moment that somehow spans eternity, there was nothing at all except his sad eyes and her quiet breaths, and the sound of a kitten playing underneath the table, blissfully ignorant of the tension.

It breaks with a soft snort of laughter through the nose, just a huff. "I guess.. ah, thanks for not telling me how stupid I am," for believing for even the slimmest of moments that he was being honest. And then she pushes herself off the door frame with every intention of disappearing into the living room, laughing at herself: "It's a good thing I haven't been carrying a torch for you for the past nine-and-a-half years, else this would really suck." That was an oddly specific amount of time for someone who was so goddamn cavalier about the statement. "Anyway! Good morning, I'm going back to bed."

Gently, carefully, Graham nudges Mew-Mew away from his feet. His mouth is still behind his hand, so no one can see him going 'ooowww' when her tiny kitty teeth biteybiterawr at his toes; she pounces right back onto them, this is a great game!!!, and so he is still quietly mouthing ow when he scrapes his chair back from the table. For Elise, leaving the kitchen, it probably looks like he's not doing anything other than getting up, probably to take his dishes over to the sink.

But. If he wasn't the slowest motherfucker on the planet, he might have caught her hand before she left the doorway. He reaches for it, anyway, but he's like three steps too late, and she's already 'going back to bed.' So he just winds up curling his fingers closed around empty air, then drops his hand and winds up folding his arm across his chest. Like he does. "Ow, fuck!" Because Mew-Mew can't read the room and is like I KILL YOUR ANKLES NOW!!!

God Graham, why the fuck are you so slow? Elise completely misses the getting-out-of-the-chair thing, so she was completely unaware of the trying-to-grab-her-hand thing. Besides, she was still very focused on the he's-not-saying-a-damn-thing thing. But she wasn't like, running up the stairs to get to her bedroom, so she was literally still in the living room when he starts to yell at the cat.

Which meeaaaans - this scene isn't over.

"What the hell happened?" she pokes her head right back into the kitchen, fast enough to give somebody whiplash.

Was she literally in the living room? Really? Not, like, figuratively in the living room but literally riding a hot air balloon somewhere over the south of France?!

With that off my chest.

It should be obvious what the hell happened when she pokes her head back in, since Graham is hopping on the foot that didn't just get mauled, having scooped the cat up off the floor and holding her by her happy little round kitten belly. "Nothing," he grumps. "Just getting murdered." (That joke would have been a lot more appropriate between these two, like, two weeks ago.) "Take this," he holds the cat out at arm's length to Elise. "Pretty sure she's sending me a clear message this morning." He sniffs, so sad.

Listen here 😐

Anyway.

It was obvious what the hell happened, and with a few blinks, Elise finds her reason to laugh. She takes the kitten as Mew-Mew is thrust into her arms, cradling her baby and nuzzling into that fluffy belly. "She sure is," no concern for Graham, who shattered her heart over the kitchen floor and pissed all over it and probably tried to wipe it up with his gross, dirty boxers. "Us girls gotta stick together, huh, Mew-Mew?" she gives the kitty a kiss on its pretty kitty nose, and then just grins over to Graham. "You're fine. Stop being a baby. She's just a kitten!"

"You say that, but I'm pretty sure I'm gonna need a blood transfusion." Graham leans back against the counter to brace himself so he doesn't fall over from hopping on his one foot. Actually, let's make sure he doesn't fall over from hopping on his one foot.

No, he manages to do that much, at least. There is like the tiniest scratch on his ankle. It didn't even really break the skin, but it's a little teensy bit pink. "I hope you two ladies sleep well while I'm down here getting," what can you get from kitten scratches? "Gangrene. We better make sure she gets her shots. Since she's clearly a vicious killer."

"Man up," wow, what a great nurse Elise must be. But she does set Mew-Mew down and chase her off into the living room, before she rolls her eyes at Graham. "Do you really want me to look you over?" she doesn't sound the least bit concerned, as her eyes skim down his body - over the white-on-white stain of milk on his shirt, past his week-old boxers, and down his legs to the teeeeny scratch on his ankle. She folds her arms over her chest, and pops her eyes back up to his own. "You look fine. And you get rabies from animals, not gangrene."

"Yes." Graham really wants her to look it over. Here, he twists awkwardly while she's looking him over - just to make sure he's extra pretty in that moment - and puts his foot on the counter. Honestly, the amount of stretching he has to do to accomplish this probably hurts more than the kitten-scratch does, but give the guy an A for effort. Also, this is the best recovery to a failed Athletics check ever. "Well, no. What I reeeeeallly want you to do is kiss it and make it better, but. Making sure I'm not gonna have to get my foot cut-off will suffice." Here, he smiles winningly.

KISS IT AND MAKE IT BETTER, ELISE.

There is a brief second where Elise regrets her decision to come back into the kitchen. It's written all over her face when he answers in the affirmative .. but, it goes away when he twists to prop his foot up onto the kitchen counter. Because, well, it was kind of a nice view, all things considered. Even if his skeevy foot is all up on her clean counters and she's going to have to wipe it down with bleach later. She breathes out a long sigh, as though she is very put out by all of this, but she shuffles over to attend to him like a proper nurse would do.

"Yep, it's just a tiny scratch. I think you're going to live," she deduces with all her medical knowledge; her parents would be so proud. But he's telling her to kiss and make it better, and he's smiling that winning smile... and well, she hates him, right now, for making her believe that there could be something. So she decides in this moment that she is going to make him regret that he thinks they are nothing.

Her 'great success' is not for her ability to determine that he doesn't need immediate amputation. That roll is saved entirely for the medical treatment she provides. A gentle hand lays against his calf, the very tips of her fingers caressing down the muscle to settle and hold him steady there behind his ankle.. and then she bends towards him with a pucker to her full lips. the kiss she lays on that itty bitty barely there scratch is soft, sincere, lips slightly parted so that he can feel the sigh of warm breath after.

If Graham was actually bleeding out right now, she would have failed. But for a kitchen scratch? Suddenly Elise is all Doogie Howser, M.D.

Again, though, he brings this stuff on himself and fails to think about wtf his mouth-running is actually going to initiate. Like, at no point did it cross his mind that Elise might call his bluff and kiss his ankle. Or that, with a hard swallow, he'd be at a momentary loss for the simple ability to breathe regularly - one of those things people just take for granted until suddenly it's not possible anymore, and his brain is like 'wtf quit asking me for help.' It doesn't help that he's in the world's most awkward position right now, with his foot on the counter like that.

It takes a very slow, measured exhale before he can say anything at all. And his voice is uncharacteristically unsmooth when he finally gets out, "Suddenly, I hurt all over." While he's incapable of not laying a hand on the back of her neck, looping the ponytail through his fingers.

Elise breathes out, another slow exhale that breezes across the skin of his ankle, as he lays his hand unto the back of her neck and she feels his fingers in her hair. She stays bent for a moment longer, just long enough to brush another kiss over his scratch. Just long enough to compose herself, so that when she starts to straighten out, her expression is far too cool and neutral. She doesn't even look the least bit smug for making him forget how to breathe. The hand around his ankle lingers another moment longer, as she lifts her dark gaze back up to him, letting it climb over his extended leg, across his hip, soak in the length of his torso, and then finally meet his eyes.

Regret. Yes, that's what this was about, making him regret. She gives him a gentle pat-pat to his calf, and fits on her best compassionate nurse smile. But considering her roll from earlier? It may fall a little flat. "I'll get you some Tylenol," she offers, instead of offering to kiss him all over. And just like that, she goes.

It's nice that the kitten didn't attack her face during this. That was very considerate, Mew-Mew.

Graham tightens his fingers on that ponytail for a second, 'cause technically he could just snatch her bald-headed if she thinks she's going to ninja away after that... but he doesn't pull her ponytail right off. Carefully, he unravels his fingers, makes a creaky, "Ow," noise when he pulls his leg awkwardly down from the counter, and he watches her go with a big sigh. Then he finds the cigarettes that he's stashed way up high in one of the cabinets, and he absolutely stands in the kitchen and smokes. He doesn't even open the window. That's what you get, Elise!

The kitten didn't attack her face because she put it in the living room. But if somebody read poses, you'd know that already!

The tightening of his fingers around her ponytail brings a still to Elise. In that moment before release, there's a barely perceivable shiver that ripples down her spine. She sways closer, her fingers tickling up along his calf towards his knee... and then she abruptly jerks back and takes her hair with her. "Big baby," she huffs as he 'ows', and retreats to the bathroom where she can find her Tylenol and take her time. Because going back in there right away was going to be a problem. Either way, she gets her composure back (GREAT success), and returns to find him... "Are you smoking in my kitchen?!"

So much for composure. The pills rattle in the bottle that she flings at his head.

Well, good dice can't last forever.

Reading comprehension is overrated. The kitten is probably eating some toxic plant Elise has in the living room and will be dead soon.

"No! Someone else was smoking in your kitchen, but I caught him and beat the shit out of him and threw him out the back door." Graham is still smoking in her kitchen while he spins this yarn, blowing a long plume of smoke right at Elise. He's not wasting a cigarette just because he didn't believe she was going to come back with the Tylenol, wtf! Oh look, he stealthily (?) catches the bottle of pills before they bean him right in the face, which is actually kind of a cool move. Go him. "How many of these do I gotta take?" For all the things that are wrong with him. <.<

"This is why no one believes anything you say ever." Look, this conversation is coming around full circle. She starts to cough as he blows the smoke in her face, flailing her hands frantically in the air as though she can push the smoke away from her and back to him. "No," she wags a finger at him, coughs again, and marches right up to pluck the cigarette out of his mouth with a growl. It's almost adorable, the way her lips curl up. Fite her.

"Two," she decides, and puts his cigarette out in the sink, and then drops it down into the garbage disposal for good measure.

She would be suitably impressed, by the way, of his awesome catch. But he ruined it by SMOKING IN HER FUCKING KITCHEN.

"First off." Graham, smiling around his cigarette. "Lots of people believe me, baby. I inspire confidence." Being that he's a CON-man and all. But then she snags the cigarette out of his mouth, and he peers over to where it disappears down into the gaping maw of the garbage disposal. "Second off, those things cost money." Third off, he has a whole fucking pack of them, and he knocks another one out of the pack, maintaining the confident smile the whole time, aiming it right down into her FITEY face. He puts the unlit cigarette into the corner of his mouth.

But he's not quite brave enough to light the thing. He has the lighter, yes, but it remains unlit. "I'll go outside," he promises.

"First off. People believe you because they don't know you," Elise flicks the garbage disposal on, the blades go whirrrrrr, and his cigarette is smashed. "Second off," she turns back to him, and pokes a finger into his chest. "You'd be a very rich man if you didn't blow all your money on cigarettes." Third off? "And third off, if you light that thing, I'll set you on fire." She tips her chin up at him and makes a stern face, but it's more adorable than it is terrifying. Look at that button nose, with all those pretty freckles! And the snarl is more of a lopsided smile.

She takes the cigarette from his lips, but instead of flicking it into the disposal, she tucks it behind his ear. And she lays a quick kiss to the side of his mouth. "Yes you will," she agrees, as she leans back, twists on her heel, and starts away again. "I'm going to take my nap now. But I was thinking..." she lingers, long enough to cast a look over her shoulder and back to him, a brow popping up. "I want to go dancing. My next day off. You should come with."

She'll set him on fire? "Oh, you did that already." Graham rubs his KISSED ANKLE with his toe. Then he wiggles his fingers at her, since she's finally going to go take a nap. "Yeah? I know a place." Where a person can dance, one assumes. He's so funny~. "Sleep well." He will just peel off the counter and go out the back door to smoke in peace.