Title: Peer Pressure
Summary: Fourth installment in the WHW series. A Trory, of course. And, you know a billion other pairings.
Rating: T, for teen. Because there are so many of them running about.
Jess cursed loudly as the phone rang, seemingly off the hook, waking him up from what might have been the best night's sleep he'd ever had. He planned on cramming in as many truly restful nights' sleep as he could from now until a baby would arrive to ensure never again would he sleep through the night.
Gwen groaned and rolled over onto her side as she dragged a pillow over her head. He grunted as she hid, grumbling about how this was her house too, now. When he got no answer and the phone rang yet again, he picked it up.
"What?"
"Jess?"
"If you have to ask, I'm hanging up," he pronounced, which caused the caller to cry out.
"You'd hang up on your father?"
"Not like I haven't done it before," he said, yawning.
"I called. Didn't the kid tell you?"
"Do you know this kid's name?"
"You know, once upon a time, you weren't out to bust my balls."
"I'm assuming we're discussing this because you have some sort of reason to be calling at ungodly hours? Why are you even up? It's three hours earlier there!"
"Sash has me on this new sleeping schedule, she says that it'd give me energy, and I said, how could anything that has me up at that hour give me energy, and you know what? I have more energy! How did she do that? I think she's putting something in the eggs."
"Jimmy. You have thirty seconds and I'm going back to sleep—my own source of energy."
"Your wife keeps calling me," he announced.
"My wife?" he asked, scanning his recollection for whether or not he'd mentioned his divorce or his new relationship with Gwen to Jimmy. Or for that matter, when he'd last spoken to Jimmy.
"Sorry, ex-wife. I shouldn't forget that. I never liked her. But she is the mother of my grandchildren."
"Why is she calling you?"
"She keeps asking me what you're up to with Gwen."
"Her name you remember?"
"I figured it better stick—you did call me to tell me about her. You never call me to tell me anything. Even with Jules, when she was born, your mother called me. I thought she hated me, I don't know why she calls me."
"She knows it bugs you," Jess answered easily.
"I gotta get caller ID," he said.
"I thought Sasha was more reliable than caller ID."
"She's not here all the time. Well, not physically."
"If you start talking about her being in your heart, I'm gonna hurl."
"Anyhow, Erin says she wants to come visit the kids, and she thinks they might be more open to a visit from her if I tagged along."
"What?" Jess asked, now sitting up in bed. Gwen's foot shifted in her slightly disrupted sleep, kicking him in the shin.
"I didn't want to tell her yes, but she just keeps calling, she's sure the kids aren't adjusting to Gwen living with you—is this woman really living with you?"
"Well, she wasn't, but," Jess began. "Why am I telling you this?"
"You can't help it. You meet the right girl, you just can't help it."
"You're not seriously coming out here," he began.
"She bought the tickets, and, well, she is their mother. If she's concerned, she's not gonna let it rest 'til she sees there's nothing to worry about. And if I can help you get her to see that you're doing fine without the evil, whoring," he began.
"Jimmy," he sighed. "Fine. But you're not staying here. There's a lot going on, you'll have to get a hotel."
"I'll pass the information along."
"Do I get an ETA, or is this a random act of intrusion?"
"Monday, she wanted to get there before school started."
"Great," Jess groaned. "Thanks, for the heads up. Sorry I didn't call back, I've just," he began.
"You don't owe me explanations. You're raising two teenagers, being a good father. She should trust you more."
"Thanks, Jimmy," he said, and then hung up the extension. He looked down at the sleeping form of the woman that had recently accepted his proposal, and tucked his body around hers, drawing the covers over their joined bodies and falling back to sleep on the lazy Saturday morning.
XXXX
Ambrose woke up to the sound of the door shutting. He opened his bleary eyes to see someone advancing on his makeshift bed—also known as the girls' couch. Someone had covered him up with blankets and tucked a blanket under his head. A guy was coming toward him, but he didn't move to sit up. He had no idea what time he'd fallen asleep the night prior, but he knew when he did, it was late and he was happy.
"Shove over," the other guy suggested.
"Should you be in here?" Ambrose asked.
"Should you?"
"I'm Ella's brother's best friend," he supplied.
"I'm Rosa's brother."
"Oh," he said, sliding his feet aside.
"I see you've met her?" he smirked.
"You could say that."
"She mentioned she had a puppy dog for the weekend."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm sure you're a very nice person," he said with some level of disinterest.
"I'm feeling a blow off here," he began.
"Smart, too," he smirked now.
"I get that she thinks I'm young."
"Good, so, we're square?"
"I don't care that she thinks I'm young. She had a good time with me."
"Okay, see, I thought you were getting the message, but clearly that's not the case. My sister, for reasons I don't ever want to know, dates older guys. Not like milking for their Social Security checks or anything creepy, but ones a couple years older, ones that have real jobs and nice cars. You have a job?"
"Is she here?" he evaded.
"She's out. Look, just, have fun while you're visiting our girl Ella, and for your own sake, put my sister out of your head. It's never going to happen."
"Don't worry about me," he assured him. "I don't chase after hopeless cases."
"Good," Grey stood up. "Now I can get on with my own day," he shook his head. "You got a sister?"
"Yeah," Ambrose nodded knowingly.
"Yeah," Grey shook his head and laughed, leaving him once again alone in the main suite.
XXXX
"Well, that's a lot of information," the therapist said as she crossed her legs and jotted down more notes on her notepad. Will and Anna exchanged glances and looked back at her.
"You've both been through quite a bit, singularly, and while we'll work through those issues, first I'd like to tackle what I see as a larger issue—one that might hinder you working through them at all."
"What's that?" Anna asked, sneaking a side glance at Will.
"Well," she adjusted her glasses slightly. "You two have known each other a very long time," she began.
"Our whole lives," Will added.
"But you've only recently, in comparison, begun to be romantically linked."
"It's been the last year, yes," Anna said.
"It's difficult, for people in this situation, to truly communicate with each other. You've skipped the niceties that most couples go through, developmentally speaking, in getting to know each other's needs. You thought, on a subconscious level, that it was unnecessary, given that you already know one another as friends, to continue the exploration. And I must tell you, before we do any further work, you must break down that idea, go back, and relearn each other."
"So, you're saying we don't know each other?" Will asked, clearly perplexed.
"I'm saying that you it's quite possible that you tend not to share your feelings enough because you believe you already think you know how the other is feeling. But romantic feelings are quite different than platonic feelings. You need to dig deeper, pull from much more instinctual reserves—but you have to hone those instincts and retrain them to think of each other as the love of your lives instead of just your friend."
Will and Anna stared at the therapist for a long moment, and Will slipped his hand over Anna's. "How do you suggest we do this?" he inquired.
"Be much more vocal with each other. Announce simple thoughts or desires that you would otherwise assume the other would know—pretend you just met. Pretend that you don't know how she likes her coffee, or that she has no clue as to what toppings you like on your pizza. Do that in all aspects of your life. That's your assignment from now until we next meet."
"You want us to do this for the next two weeks?"
The therapist nodded and smiled. "Then we'll determine how well that has gone, and move on from there."
Will nodded. "Thank you," he nodded to the woman who was still clutching at her notepad, now filled with all their 'issues'. He turned to face Anna. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah," she nodded.
"Very nice," their actions were graded. "Keep it up, and I'll see you in two weeks."
XXXX
"You said you loved the fence."
Rory shrugged from inside the closet. "The fence is external."
"The foundation is very solid, the structure is very sound," he repeated what the realtor had just told them before leaving them to discuss its potential. Part of him wished she'd come back and help him out.
"But look at these closets! This house has very little storage room."
"It has a basement and an attic."
"Yeah, but people never go down into basements or up into attics to retrieve their stuff. It just sits where you've parked it, forever gathering dust, and no one finds out what you have until you die and your kids are forced to go through it all."
"You want to look at more houses? If this one isn't what you want, the realtor said there were dozens that met our requirements."
Rory said nothing, just kept staring at the back of the empty closet. Tristan stepped up to put his arms around her waist. He leaned his head down to hers.
"You can't compare every house to ours—unless you want to build a replica of the New York house down here, in which case we'd be in temporary housing for about a year."
"No," she sighed, leaning back into his chest. "I just need to let go."
"I know we're happy in New York, but we can find a good place here, too. It'll just take time to adjust," he said.
"Yeah," she turned around in his arms and closed her eyes as he kissed her reassuringly. She began to kiss him back when a loud clearing of a throat occurred behind him.
"Not to interrupt," she said loudly.
"Sorry," Rory winced.
"Not at all. I was just wondering if you were interested in putting in a bid or seeing other homes?"
"We'd like to see other homes, but mark this one as a maybe."
Tristan smiled at his wife's decision, and walked out of the room with his hand on the small of her back, wondering how long it would take for her to truly feel okay about this move.
XXXX
Pax opened the door and slid inside. He'd been careful not to wake anyone he hadn't meant to wake all morning. Now armed with the ultimate in arousal means, he sat down on the edge of Ella's bed and moved the cup toward her nose.
Her eyes flipped open as her hand reached out for the cup. When her hand overlapped Pax's, she sat up a bit, as if she just realized he was in the room.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered.
"Why are you whispering?" he followed suit.
"Jake is here," she looked down on the now empty mattress on the floor.
"I took care of that," he assured her.
"You sent him home?" she asked, sounding a bit annoyed—and a bit in awe.
He chuckled. "No. I set him up in the weight room at the rec center."
"How'd you get him in? He doesn't have an ID."
He just smiled. "I know people. Just drink your coffee and get dressed."
"It's Saturday. And it's not noon," she pointed to her alarm clock.
"We have a date," he reminded.
"Tonight," she corrected.
"Think of it as a pre-date warm-up."
"Pax," she groaned. "I'm tired," she informed him as she fell back against her pillows in attempts of defeating him.
"I brought you coffee," he shook his head.
"Which earns you points, but," she argued.
"I promise if you're not having fun, at any point, I will carry you back here so you can take a nap."
She looked at him in earnest. "Well, you don't have to carry me," she promised.
"I'll just wait out there," he stood up and left her alone to get ready.
XXXX
"I want coffee," Gwen groaned.
"Decaf," Jess offered.
"I hate you."
"I understand. You want breakfast?"
"Uhhn," she groaned and rolled over. "Oh, God, not again," she prefaced her jumping out of bed and heading for the bathroom. He sighed and waited a minute before approaching the door.
"Can I do anything?"
The toilet flushed, and he heard running water. When she opened the door, she was brushing her teeth. "Bagels from the deli on 86th?"
He looked at her for a beat and nodded. "If Jules wakes up before I get back, try to keep her happy dance in check. Last time she was still groggy and tripped on that table in the hallway."
"They are good bagels. Hey, Jess?"
"Yeah?" he asked as he pulled his jeans up over his boxer shorts.
"Are you doing this because I'm all pregnant and throwing up?" she asked, clearly looking a bit guilty.
"It was more because of the whole agreeing to marry me thing," he smirked as he got his shoes on his feet. He moved to stand before her in the bathroom doorway and kissed her forehead. "I'll be back."
"Wait," she put her hand on his chest. "What about the kids?"
"I'll get enough to feed everybody," he assured her.
"I meant telling them. When are we going to tell them about … everything?"
He had thoughts of his conversation with his father in his head, along with his desire to get everything out in the open so he could concentrate on the months of making sure Gwen had nothing else to worry about.
"I have something to tell you," he began slowly.
"You changed your mind?"
"No," he shook his head, sighing as he took her hand and led her to the bed, indicating for her to sit. "Look, the phone call, earlier," he stopped.
"Is Ambrose okay?" her hand moved to his knee.
He smiled. "He's fine; it was my father."
"Your father?"
"Yeah. He's coming for a visit."
Gwen frowned. "That seems odd. Isn't he in California?"
"Yeah," Jess acknowledged. "He's coming with Erin."
"Erin," she said with realization. "She's coming back?"
"For a visit. With the kids," he clarified.
"Oh. Okay," she frowned. "And you want to wait to tell them, until after?"
"I don't want to, I just want to give them enough time to adjust, and Erin might make that difficult," he said gingerly. "I don't want to make this hard on you."
She smiled. "That's sweet, but I got myself into all this same as you did. And we're happy about all of this, so theoretically everyone else should be too, right?"
He nodded with a look of disbelief on his face. "Theoretically."
"Good," she leaned forward to kiss him. "I'll check on Jules while you get bagels."
"Okay, but, we didn't decide on when to tell them," he said as she nearly pushed him out the door.
"We'll just do it when Ambrose gets home, together, now scoot, I'm hungry," she urged, and he just shook his head and grabbed his wallet on his way out the door.
XXXX
Billy walked into the kitchen, grabbed a banana, and attempted to get to his room without being stopped. Lia watched with interest from her seat at the table next to her father, and her mother wielded a spatula at him to stop him.
"Hey!" he yelped.
"Where've you been?" she asked.
"Weren't you the one telling me not to mope around the house? To get out more?"
"Yes, but see, I like you to tell me where you've gone out to," she clarified.
"Just out. I need to get ready for work."
"Want French toast to go with the banana?"
"I'll be late," he kissed his mother's cheek and made for his bedroom.
"You know anything?" Sookie used her implement to point at her daughter.
"Hey!" Lia frowned. "I know nothing, I don't like to poke into his private life. It tends to skeeve me out. I'm going over to Susan's," she announced as she washed her plate off and stuck it in the dishwasher. "Bye," she called out on her way out the door.
"What about you?" Sookie asked Jackson.
"I can have a talk with him," he offered.
"No, we've got to trick him into telling us," she announced. "I'll talk to Lorelai," she said.
"Hey, I can be sneakier than Lorelai," he stood up.
"Oh, honey, that's cute," she patted his back.
"Not that we need to rehash this, but I did get you to allow me to deep fry a turkey," he reminded.
"I was young and naïve then," she said, clearly not giving room to allow him to pull a trick like that again.
"Well, Billy is young and naïve," he pointed out.
"Fine. I give you two days to find out what he's up to, then I call Lorelai."
"Oh ye of little faith," he shook his head as they went about cleaning up after the breakfast dishes.
XXXX
Jake grunted as he lifted the bar up off of his chest for the tenth time. Ambrose stood over him, at the ready for when he found it next to impossible to lift the weighted bar off his chest again.
"You really want to have to do this every day?" he watched the bar lower again.
Jake let out a breath. "It's actually fun. Gets all the frustration out," he said.
"What frustration do you have?"
"Just, life, I don't know. Shut up, you're breaking my concentration."
Ambrose rolled his eyes and watched his friend do two more reps before he called out for a rest so they could add more weight to the end of the bar.
"What did you think of Rosa?" Ambrose asked as he settled the bar over the holder for his friend.
Jake looked up from grabbing more weight that he wanted to add to one end of the bar. "You mean other than the fact you have no shot with her?"
"I should have let the bar fall on you," he glared.
"You never liked things sugar-coated before," he shrugged. "Why start now?"
"Her brother came over this morning to give me the blow off," he informed him.
"Does it matter?" Jake asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, we're going home tomorrow morning—it's not like you don't have girls on some sort of wait list at home."
"Yeah, but none of those girls," he started, but thought better of what he was going to say. "She liked me."
"So? What's it matter if she likes you, if she has no interest in dating you?"
"That makes no sense," he said.
"They're girls, when were they supposed to make sense?" Jake asked as he finished adding the extra weight. "Tonight we'll go out with the guys and meet other girls and you'll have forgotten all about Rosa."
"Right. I'll just occupy my mind with other things," he said thoughtfully. "Is that why you're lifting weights?"
Jake just groaned and lifted the heavier bar up off his chest.
XXXX
"I've failed as a mother," Lorelai said into the phone.
"Mom, come on," Rory said as she and Tristan waited to be seated at the restaurant. Clearly 'just a moment' was a relative phrase—it'd been more than several moments and Tristan couldn't rightly complain when she took the call from her mother.
"Your brother is in therapy. Only people who've had traumatic childhoods go to therapy. Like, I, for instance, should have been in therapy. I tried to shield you two from that kind of mental anguish."
"We weren't mentally anguished," she soothed.
"I've worked so hard all these years, and what do I get? A daughter that moves to the Deep South, a son that's trying to blame me for his inability to foster a healthy relationship with a woman, and a husband that is hiding major life changes from me!"
"So, let me get this straight—you think I'm in Georgia, Will might be gay, and Luke bought a sports car without telling you?"
"Did I suffocate you too much?"
"Sometimes when you insisted on sleeping in my bed, I did wake up with your arm over my face," Rory mused.
"What about Will? Did I ruin him for women?"
"Okay, Mom, take a breath. To tell you the truth, we haven't found a house yet, and we can't move until that happens, and Will is going to be just fine. He and Anna will figure out what is causing the trouble, and they'll get married. And as for Luke, well, he's your husband, make him tell you."
"Well, I sort of already know."
"Then why are you complaining?"
"Because you can't teach an old dog new tricks."
"Is it juicy?"
"Yes," she said emphatically.
"Dish!"
"I… can't."
"You can't? What, your lips don't work? Some sort of annunciation problem? Or maybe it involves a foreign word? Oh, God, it's not some sort of male health issue, is it?"
"No! And I'm not supposed to know—technically Luke didn't tell me, so I don't have clearance to tell you."
"Does it affect me?" Rory asked.
"Well, with you all the way down there in Georgia," Lorelai teased.
"I'm hanging up now. I think being on the phone is making them think we're okay with the long wait."
"I think all their clocks got burned in the War Between the States," Lorelai joked. "They must be fixing to start to get your table ready."
"Yeah, I'm hanging up now."
"Don't be a stranger, hear?" Lorelai joked into her phone.
"Suffocater!" Rory grumbled, then hung up quickly.
"What was that about?" Tristan asked, putting his arm around her as her stomach growled loudly.
"You folks ready?" their hostess approached them, and Tristan smiled in kind. Rory just frowned and followed along, wishing for the lightening fast pace of the City.
XXXX
Ella walked alongside Pax through the downtown shopping area of New Haven, and she turned to look at him questioningly.
"You're taking me shopping?"
"Sort of."
"There is no 'sort of' in shopping. Window shopping isn't shopping—it's an exercise in futility."
"I'm glad we agree," he mused, tilting his head toward the dry cleaner. "I need to do a few errands."
"Okay, when you said pre-date activities, I thought you meant we were going to get coffee or pick up tickets or something—getting your clothes I see as sort of a solitary activity."
He just smiled. "Just a little trust," he urged.
"Fine. But if our next stop is the bank or the grocery store, I'm leaving you two arms short for hauling your crap back to the dorms."
"Fair enough," he held the door open for her, and she ducked under his arm, careful not to brush against him. He let her enter the building before letting go of the door and approaching the counter.
"Ah, Paxton!" came the voice of the woman behind the counter.
"Hey, Mrs. Gladson, how are you?"
"It's so rare I get to see your face. Now your father, in his day, he always came in to see me."
"I'd like to think I'm a bit more academically minded than my father," he smirked.
"Your classes are going well?"
"So far so good," he said.
"And the young lady?"
"Ah, this is Ella Dugrey, Ella, this is Mrs. Gladson," he made brief introductions. "She was so good to accompany me today. Under duress, of course," he smirked harder and leaned into Ella's shoulder.
"It's nice to meet you," Ella smiled before she shot a warning look at Pax. He pulled out his wallet as Mrs. Gladson began to lay his jacket over the counter and made a small noise of remembrance.
"You forgot some things in the pockets," she said, moving to retrieve a small paper bag.
"Can you grab that?" Pax asked Ella as he continued extracting money from his wallet to pay for his dry cleaning.
"Just a pair of arms," she murmured for only him to hear as she took the bag graciously.
"You take such good care of me here," Pax thanked the woman.
"You tell your father hello and that I expect to see him on Parents' Weekend," she said.
"I'm sure you'll be a favorite on his stops through town."
She nodded and waved him off, as if he were being preposterous. He turned to Ella as he took his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. "Aren't you going to have a look?" he nodded to the bag.
"No," she shook her head.
"Come on, take a look," he encouraged.
"It's your stuff," she reminded.
"You sound so sure about that," he winked.
"You're saying you left my stuff in a jacket I've never seen before, and therefore you must have stolen from my room?" she inquired.
"I'm saying that I might have something in there that I want you to have," he corrected.
"Well, then, that's very different," she smiled and opened up the crinkly brown paper bag. Within the bag she found a fountain pen and a key.
"Isn't it a little soon for writing utensils? Is this like telling me you can't have sex with me, like a Lloyd Dobbler kind of thing?"
"The pen is actually mine," he hinted. "But you can write me, if you like. Everybody loves mail."
She picked up the key and ran her fingers over it. "Is this symbolic?" she looked up at him with wide blue eyes.
"No, it will allow you to see your next clue."
"I'm confused."
"That key fits a mailbox at the campus post office," he clarified.
"Oh, right, of course," she put the key in the bag and kept walking alongside him.
"Don't you think it's a little early to be swapping room keys?" he teased.
"Shut up," she couldn't help but smile as he linked his arm with hers, causing her to blush deeper, fully aware of the looks they were drawing from those around them.
When they reached the post office, they headed toward the less crowded area that held the post office boxes. She matched up the key to the correct box, stuck it in the keyhole, and turned to look at Pax.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"This is yours, right?"
He nodded. "So?"
"So, this is your mail. I shouldn't be getting your mail."
"You have my permission," he assured her.
She took the key out and thrust it at him. "Just give me what you want me to have, I don't want to leaf through your mail," she said.
"You think I have adult magazines in there? Chances are I have a letter from my mom and a package slip telling me my godmother has done too much baking again," he said. "Maybe a credit card bill. But I promise the bulk of that should be school books," he smiled.
"Will you just," she held the key out at him again.
"Wimp," he muttered, taking it from her and moving in front of her to open his mailbox.
He pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. Giving him a look of hesitation, she took it in her hands and slid her finger under the flap to rip open the sealed paper. He leafed through the rest of it, holding up a multi-colored piece of paper that the dorms used as package slips.
"See? Ten bucks it's brownies; if it is, remind me to call Jasper and give him a heads up."
She paused her task of extracting the information out of her envelope to look up at Pax at the mention of the boy she assumed wouldn't be brought up during their date.
"Jasper?"
"His mom is my godmother, and vice versa. I told you we all grew up together," he said. "So, what do you have there?"
She turned her attention back to the envelope. She extracted a gift certificate for a local coffee shop with a note written on the back.
"'Use Me,'" she read.
"You gonna treat me?" he smirked.
"I can't decide if you're crazy or not," she looked at him for a moment.
"Let me know when you decide," he shrugged. "Shall we, then?"
"Why are you doing all this?" she asked as they walked along on the hot pavement of the sidewalk, toward the nearby coffee shop that he'd no doubt purchased her wake-up call from earlier this morning.
"All what?"
"You've gone through all this effort to plant clues, to lead me around, keep me intrigued," she led.
"It's nothing," he dismissed it.
"Pax," she put her hand on his arm, sliding it down to catch his hand as they walked.
He looked down at their joined hands, then up to her eyes. "It's the least I could do, after making you feel bad for this whole thing. I want you to know, I'm not normally like that," he said.
"I thought guys were ecstatic about the whole no strings thing," she smiled softly.
"I doubt you've run across too many guys that were fine with idea of you being with more than just them," he said plaintively.
She just blushed, having no good retort. They had made their way to the coffee shop, and he let go of her hand and stepped away.
"I'm gonna run to the bathroom—make sure to ask for whipped cream," he winked.
Her mouthed gaped into a surprised 'O', and she approached the counter. She had no idea what he wanted—so she decided on two of whatever she wanted, both with extra whipped cream, apparently. She decided on frozen mochas and she handed the card over as she added the whipped cream to the order. The barista smiled at her and nodded. "Right," she said. "Here's your receipt, don't lose that," she instructed.
Ella took the receipt and went to wait for the coffees to be handed over. She studied the small scrap of paper to see what was so necessary to keep. He'd somehow arranged it so that his address and today's date and 7:00 p.m. were printed on the receipt. She looked up to find him, no doubt watching her from some point across the room—only for her eyes to fall on a couple sitting at a table in the far corner. The boy was unmistakably Jasper—and the person sitting much too close to him was no doubt tall—based on the extremely long legs she had curled up under the table. She was blonde; her long, clearly not naturally colored locks arranged perfectly. Too perfect to be out on a study date.
"Ah, you got whipped cream," came Pax's voice as his hand slid around her waist. When she didn't respond, he looked up to see what had her attention.
"Oh," he let out a breath. "Ella," he began.
"Don't," she shook her head, pulling her eyes from the scene before her.
"I didn't know about this," he began.
"I would never think you would do anything like that," she assured him.
"You want to say hello, or just get out of here?"
"I just want to go," she began. "Do I have to wait until seven to see you again?"
He looked at her, as if assessing her state of mind. "I think I can come up with something else for us to do, to kill the time."
She nodded and handed him his drink. "Let's get out of here."