She lets him catch her wrists, and her smile is sly like a cat that caught a canary -- or a snake about to strike at prey. If he's staying, it means she wins. "Oh, my, how indulgent. Did you work hard for this, or should I count my lucky stars?"

She giggles, light and girlish. It delights her when her whims are catered to normally, and she's vibrant when it's by one so close to he heart. The push and pull of their group is expected and comfortable, but a little tenderness goes a long way. She hums low in her throat, the few notes her vocal chords don't automatically destroy.

"I'll let you choose the movie." Her taste in movies is dark and full of horrors and not conducive to slumber.