Disclaimer: Quite clearly, I don't own the characters.
V really should move. He knows that he should get off the sofa, strap his knives into place and leave the Shadow Gallery to go about the night's work. But he also knows that he isn't going to.
There's a shipment tonight, a train carrying yet more food to Sutler's already bloated supplies. There is enough food on that train to keep him and Evey well fed for weeks, if not months. But how can he be expected to move when he's so wonderfully relaxed? Gaining enough of Evey's trust that she would willingly sit beside him was a hard won pleasure that he is reluctant to relinquish. The look of rapture on her face as she watches the black and white figures parade across the screen is entrancing, and his limbs are weighed down with the desire to remain cradled against the soft pillows that comfort his tired body.
This is no way for a revolutionary to think, he scolds himself silently. Will you remain on the sofa on the fifth because you are reluctant to give up your own comfort?
Sighing, V begins to rise. Before he moves so much as an inch, a bowl of buttery popcorn is thrust beneath his nose. "Popcorn?" Evey asks absently, her eyes not moving from the screen. A moment of hesitation, then V scoops up a handful of the popcorn and sinks back into the sofa, resigned to doing nothing for the evening.