There's something about having Spencer in his bed as he gets ready for work that still seems so foreign to him. She is the last person he expects to be there and the very last person he expected to see when he opened that door after the knocking pulled him from his work. So much so there was nothing for him to do but move to the side so that she could walk through the threshold. The series of events that led to her still lying asleep in his bed as he quietly tries to find his keys and hospital badge still seem something he's making up in his own mind. He gave her the past thirty six hours but knows he simply cannot spend all of his time in bed with her. He wants to. Oh, how he wants to. The beautiful girl in his bed is far more intriguing than the host of patients he needs to see that day. He even knows that she won't remain forever. She's escaping whatever happened in Rosewood, something he hadn't pried out of her just yet, but she'll go back.

Spencer Hastings is never more than temporary in his life.

Since their first meeting it's been nothing more than a series of almosts. Almost friends. Almost lovers. Almost together. Almost. Almost. Almost. She had the Carpenter, the very man he ever refuses to mention by name out of a distaste he tries to keep masked, though he's entirely certain the feeling is mutual. Or was mutual. Doesn't think either give the other much thought after so many years. From the few times he and the boy, because that's all he was, a boy, were in the same room nothing went well. He had Melissa, who he tries desperately not to think about as he watches Spencer lying in the bed, as peaceful as he's ever seen her. Caleb seems to be her most recent liaison but from the way she has this far away look in her eyes when the silence falls upon them he doesn't think he's done her any favors. How Caleb went from Hanna to Spencer to whatever transpired to her in his bed he is curious but sees just how much she is unwilling to share. She's rarely one for spilling out truths, always something more beneath the surface.

She doesn't want complications and he's someone who can make it so there aren't any.

He doesn't needthe entire story. Never had. She has a certain air of mystery about her he's been drawn to since he met her. Always as if she was hiding something. He always knew a little more than he would ever let on, but didn't believe his accent was the only one thing that ever drew her to him. As he stands there, however, there is very little he does know. Charlotte is dead and Spencer is in Rosewood with her friends. Melissa is in London, living her life far away from him, leaving him out of the Hastings loop. Being so far removed from the Hastings has proven to make his life quite calm, in an odd sort of way he is not entirely sure if ever truly adjusts to.

Through everything he does his best not to analyze her. She wouldn't respond well if she were to find out. He's bore witness to her spiral before and it's different this time around. He supposes it's a good thing, that whatever it was Caleb did didn't manage to tear her to the ground. It's all too easy to see Caleb is responsible for the changes in her. She's different than he remembers in a myriad of ways and it's only hints of the young girl he knew that remain. She's quiet in a way that only makes him more curious, not less. Quiet and tired. Not in the way where once she wakes she'll be put together and fine, but in the way that life isn't kind to her. It's a truth he knows, parts of just how unkind life has been to her. There are very few people who never heard the story of the four kidnapped teen girls. His relationship with Melissa and previous contact with Charlotte make it impossible for him to remain in the dark regardless.

She came to see him after she graduated from Georgetown, telling him about her time at the prestigious school and worry for what life had waiting for her. He heard hints of Caleb then, an offhand mention here or there, but nothing she was willing to admit was more than just the pair being friends. It was her second visit a few weeks before he got word of Charlotte's death did he see her care for him, in a way that was deeper than simply being someone's friend. He and Spencer became friends, in a true sense of the word. It happened to be a polite, friendly dynamic. At least until the knock on his front door managed to change everything.

"You're staring." She whispers, her voice thick with sleep.

"I'm not." Wren denies as he moves to the nightstand to retrieve his phone. "I have to go to work."

"I can amuse myself."

She rises from the bed then and stretches, not bothering to cover herself up. He's staring, unable to help himself, enjoying the sight of her all too perfect nude form before him. No belief existed prior in which he thought the reality would exist as it does, nor just how unashamed she is.

He's going to be late the longer he stands around but it's as if his feet are glued to the floor. She consumes him in all the ways she's done since he first met her. No fault of her own, rather the fault lies on him. She's twenty-three as she makes her way around the bed and it easily rids him of any and all guilt. He just hit thirty and notes the gap between them, as same as ever, but it's nothing he cares about anymore. The only concern that comes over him is a worry that he, in fact, psychoanalyzing her in a way he shouldn't, turning them into something of a dynamic they don't need to add on top of the complicated history they are as it is.

She ruffles through his things in order to find the pack of cigarettes he should be better about hiding. Bloody nasty habit he tries to kick but some day it's just something that he gives into. Watching her do it is far different. She bends over the edge of the windowsill as the distant smell of smoke fill his senses. His eyes continue to linger and he thinks no one in their right mind could ever not desire her. "You shouldn't smoke."

"Neither should you," she replies, tossing a look back at him, her hair falling over the sides of her shoulders. "At least I'm not a doctor smoking. Do you tell your patients to stop while knowing you're going against your own advice?"

He doesn't even pretend to not be amused as a smile crosses his lips. "Do you grow tired of sassing?"

"Never ."

A brief glance at his watch tells him he only has a few minutes before he absolutely has to leave. Times such as these he wishes he lives far closer to the hospital than he does. Still, he cannot resist carrying his feet so he's standing next her, stealing the cigarette from her. He takes a drag ignoring her all too judgmental glare. "Come have lunch with me?"

"I'd have to put on clothes then." She teases him as she stands up straight, taking the cigarette back for herself. "I'll stop by. I don't think hiding in your apartment is going to do me any good."

The sadness in her eyes hits him then. He expects absolutely nothing from her but does hope that it doesn't end in something painfully tragic. "There's a whole city to see, Spencer. Enjoy it." He only lingers long enough to get a kiss from her, his hand on her cheek. "You're usually on a mission of sorts. Relax. Go sight see. Be a normal tourist for a day."

"I make no promises. Go," she orders, "save lives. I'll be fine."

It's one of the few days in which he watches the clock. It doesn't move. Time never does when one is waiting for something. He is waiting for something, to see Spencer again, to escape from the patients and their madness. There's something he truly enjoys about being a doctor. He hadn't been lying when he told Spencer that the drive came from him. It did. His mum didn't care too much one way or another what he did. His father was too lost in his own mind to form any real opinion, leaving a family fractured. Not that he blames him anymore. He understands just how little there is to understand. The only thing that remains is a soft wish at what could have been.

His life is devoted to it without any regret. Even dealing with the most unruly of patients brings a sense of calm over him, as if he's always been set out for this life. It doesn't matter that some days objects are thrown and other days there's nothing but silence that fills the rooms. It simply reminds him of the time he found himself so frustrated with his father he threw a bowl of soup or seeing Spencer within the halls of Radley that brought him a greater understanding of so much about her.

It's only the days he worries he'll end up exactly like his father that he hates his job more than anything.

As he finishes filling out the charts the only thing he dislikes is how slow the day is, checking his watch for the umpteenth time. It's a good day, relatively, for the morning, at least. He long ago barred himself from getting too attached to how the first half of a shfit moves, as the afternoon can usually bring something far worse. He looks up just as he signs his name to the chart and sees Spencer walking down the hall to him. Right on time.

"Are you wearing my shirt?" Is the only thing he can manage to offer up at proper greeting. She most obviously is with the shirt he recognizes and the way it hangs off of her. Not a ton but enough, even tucked into her jeans.

She looks down at her choice of outfit for only a moment. "I needed something to wear." She lets a shrug roll off her shoulders as she looks up at him. "Do you not like it?"

"No, I do." Nothing there not to like.

"I took your advice and I went to the Tower of London."

"Of course you did." There's no surprise in his voice.

"You're the one who told me to get out and sight see. So, I did. I bought this bracelet," she smiles as she holds out her wrist, "everyone needs a bracelet marking the fates of Henry VIII's wives. You know, I dressed up as Mary Queen of Scots once. I'm the one who would totally get beheaded by her own family. Fitting."

"I doubt Melissa is going to behead you."

Spencer scoffs and gives him something of a pointed look. "I had sex with you. She already made a comment about shopping out of other people's carts with Caleb, which blew up in my face so..." She shrugs, letting the conversation die off. "Are you ready for lunch?"

"Yeah." He doesn't think the topic of Melissa will do either of them good anyway. "There's a place across the street."

She doesn't say anything as they fall in line walking through the hospital until they are outside. It's a nice day, which is something of a rarity as of late. He lost count how many times he got rained on in the past week. The silence is comfortable over awkward, something he prefers. Not that it's ever been awkward with Spencer. Not when just being around her is nice. It's a horrid idea to compare her and Melissa, but his brain simply keeps doing it. A horrid idea to get involved with sisters in the first place. He and Melissa have been broken up for the better part of three years. Something that has stuck with how much she detests him now. Not that there's much blame he holds for her. Not with the way the breakup went. Didn't ever think a phone call with Charlotte would be a bigger sin than holding a certain affection for her younger sister.

"What happened with Caleb?" He asks so suddenly he barely even registers that it's him speaking the four words.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Briefly he glances out of the corner of his eye at her, "Last time I saw you you seemed quite smitten with him."

"Yeah, well things change, Wren." She bites out the words, letting out of something of a huff. "I'm not...mad . I'm just...heartbroken. He loves Hanna and not me. It's fine. I just...I just...really thought he loved me." She whispers the last part out and moves to wipe the stray tear that fell. "He moved to D.C, after we were together in Madrid. Before I left he told me that he had job offer in San Francisco and he didn't take it because he wanted to stay. Who does that?" She looks over at him just briefly, her eyes filled with tears. "Who does that, sticks around for years, and then decides their ex is better? I mean, I get it. It's Hanna. Look at her. She's not a damaged mess. Even you were into her. It was stupid think that…"

"Spencer…"

"No, don't. I'm not hungry anymore. I'm going to go…" Before he can say anything she's putting her hand up to stop him. "You need to eat though since you have work. I'll just see you back at your place. Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"Spencer." Wren calls out as she walks in the other direction but when she just keeps walking he decides it's best to not push her. It's the most candid she's been since she landed in London. He wants to fix it for her but can't. He can't mend the pain she's going through and he wants to. More than he can explain. The only thing he can do is wish she saw herself in a better light.

He ends up calling her in the middle of the rest of his shift only for her not to answer. Not that he really knows what he would have said had she actually answered his call. He hopes that she's there when he gets back to his flat so he can talk to her or at least see her before she leaves. Not that she sounds as if she wants to go home, quite the opposite. She doesn't run for long, always manages to find her way back. It's admirable really. The way she'll do anything for those around her when she's unhappy and unsure about so much. It's a bond and loyalty he's never found within his own life.

Her stuff is still on his couch and her voice can be heard from his bedroom when he shuts the door behind him by the time he actually manages to make it back home. His keys make their way to the entry table before he walks down the hall, slowly, loosening the tie from around his neck. She's lying on his bed, facing the opposite wall with her phone attached to her ear. It's likely better he can't see her face when her broken one from earlier is something haunting.

"I just need to be mad a little longer." Spencer says quietly. "And I'll talk to Caleb when I get back. He's right we both need to...figure things out."

He's not sure that she knows he's there but he finds himself lying next to her on the bed anyway, alerting her to his presence without saying anything. She's still wearing his shirt just with her jeans cast aside, her hair in a plait, and her body free of anything else. It puzzles him the way she can think that Hanna is obviously the more attractive one when she's there just existing and his attraction to her is absolute. His own misguided attraction to Hanna is something so far in the past it's hard to even fathom what he saw.

"I haven't... no Just trust me on this one and I'll explain it to them when I get back. Yeah, bye, Hanna."

"After you left," Wren doesn't bother to ask her about her conversation with Hanna, only starting his own as he wraps his arm around her, pulls her to him just enough so her back is pressed against him, "I kept thinking about your question. 'Who does that?' A guy who doesn't know what he has and is bloody stupid. I'm not going to pretend I did Melissa much better, nor will I pretend this is something other than you needing comfort. You are worth so much more than a guy making you feel like this. My own interest in Hanna was an error in judgement and I'd choose you over her every single time."

She's quiet. So quiet a brief thought passes his mind that he said something wrong. It's difficult to see her there and pretend all the things he once felt don't still exist. Not as strongly as years prior but enough to wish she remains in his arms forever. It's pathetic, really, that he lies there with her simply willing to take what she offers. Long ago he decided he simply wished for her happiness, but as she relaxes herself against him, she's not happy. It doesn't take much to see that.

"Do you remember that Christmas we spent at that cabin right after you and Toby had broken up? We got snowed in. Everyone else went to bed and I came downstairs only to find you crying because you couldn't light the fireplace. That was your excuse," he does his best to not smile at the memory, "I knew better but I pretended to believe you. I remember thinking how much you deserve to be happy. You deserve that, you know, to be happy. Not to cast yourself full of doubt and wondering why someone would leave you. There was a split second I thought you were going to kiss me that night."

"I wanted to." Spencer confesses with nothing more than a mere whisper. "Maybe not for the right reasons. I was in pain but I wanted Melissa to be happy. You broke up with her a couple weeks later."

"It was the right decision."

"Yeah." She sniffles, moving to wipe the tears forming, not bothering to look back at him. "I have to tell you something and I think it might backfire. Either way I need you to keep it a secret even if you hate me like you hate Melissa. Do you understand?"

"I don't hate Melissa." Not that the detail is all that important. "I understand."

"Melissa said you broke up with her because of something Charlotte told you." She pauses, aimlessly running her finger against his hand. "Part of me wants to ask why you would side with Charlotte of all people, but Alison did, too, so maybe it's not so much of a mystery. I know what Melissa did was wrong but that girl pushed Toby's mom off of Radley so I don't feel that bad. Caleb isn't the only reason I'm here. I... we…" she pauses long enough to let out a breath, "Alison was in Webly, the new Radley, by her husband. He was a fraud. He's dead and I buried his body. I used the plane ride as an alibi and…"

"Me . You're using me as an alibi." He doesn't say anything else, entirely unsure as to what to say. Not that he moves from where he's holding her. She feels nice against him and the whole processing of thoughts is taking more time than he ever thought it would. Not that there was ever a moment in which he could say Spencer would be lying there telling him she buried someone's body. No, he didn't quite see her in such light, though being related to Melissa should make it far less surprising than it is. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I have his phone in my bag and I was wondering if you would use it? Not here but enough to make them think he just...left her."

"Bloody Hell, Spencer."

"I know it's a lot. It's more than I should ever ask of you, but it wasn't on purpose. Everything is just so fucked up that I don't know how to be anymore. I ran here but I can't stay here. They need me and I have a bad habit of using you to get my way, but," she carefully shifts in his arms so she's looking at him, "I feel more lost and more scared than when I was sixteen. I finally moved on and I didn't have nightmares. Now, I just can't get rid of them. I see his body and his face. I see Charlotte and I'm so alone. I know it's not fair. I'm not fair to you but please, Wren, I need this one favor. I can disappear from your life forever."

He thinks he should break from her, should walk away and just think. He doesn't. He only watches her, watches as the tears fall, watches as she grows more upset. He can see the distress in her and it appeals to him in a way he would rather it not. It makes him think that he's about to do something he shouldn't. She's effectively using him and he's been down this path before. Almost as if he's become blind to so much just because it's Spencer. His reaches and runs his fingers against her cheek. "You don't have to disappear from my life. I'll do it. Foryou."

"I didn't kill Charlotte." She says suddenly, glancing down from him.

"I know. I know you didn't." His words are gentle as his forehead meets hers. She seems far too interested in covering up the one she did committ to leave Charlotte's body out for anyone to see.

"And I'm not actually broken up with Caleb. I'm entirely certain he's breaking up with me. I just...didn't get that far."

"Somehow that's the least of your offenses." The words are soft as he brushes her lips against hers. "Is that what you were talking about with Hanna?"

"She told everyone I'm staying with Melissa. They're all mad and they'll be mad when I tell them I told you, but it's so hard to lie all the time. It's dumb, I know. When you'll be here and I'll be in Rosewood." The pause only serves for her to grip his hand in her own. "Why were you in contact with Charlotte?"

"I'm a doctor."

"You're not her doctor."

"No, I wasn't her doctor. She was there when I first volunteered at Radley." An admission he never believed he'd make, but as the words slip out of his mouth he only think it's fair. "She sought me out and wanted to spill a lot of secrets. In that way...you know her remorse isn't real. She told me a lot of things about you and Melissa."

"Yeah, nothing was ever real about Charlotte. I thought I would die in that dollhouse. Just like I thought I was going to die in that church at the hands of Ian."

"I'm sorry, you know. About Ian. I should have listened to you. If I knew about Charlotte and the Dollhouse…"

"Don't, Wren." She shakes her head, giving him a glance. "I'm alive and they are both dead. It's fine."

It's not fine, but the words don't come out of his mouth. He just lays there and watches her, knowing just how much is going to be gone from him too soon. It's all too easy to see just unfair he is with Melissa and Spencer. Unfair to remain with Melissa as long as he had, and unfair to look at Spencer with a genuine softness as if she didn't just admit to murdering someone. She's always been complicated and mysterious, something about her pulling him, and it's safe to say he is pulled in right then. Eyes focused on her and thoughts only focused on how much he wants to kiss her. As if her dark secrets only make her more desirable, for some reason he doesn't understand. Sometimes life is just messy and there are no answers.

"Did you love Melissa?"

It's a fair question but one that causes him to swallow, taking a moment. "You're just full of questions."

"Did you?"

"Yes." It's soft. Almost as if he doesn't want to admit it at all. Part of him doesn't. At least not to Spencer. It's as if Melissa is right there in the room with them whenever she's brought up. She'll never forgive him for being with Spencer and as much as he doesn't wish to come between the two it's hard to look at Spencer and think that he should pull back simply because of her sister. He should , though. He knows that. He knows that in the painful way that getting entangled in her messes will only cause more harm and destruction in the end. "You loved Toby and Caleb."

"Can you love someone who doesn't love you back?"

"Yes," he answers. "Another's feelings mean little."

"Did you love me?"

"You never let me." There was a time in which he thought he could, but it seemed so long ago. "You came around to make yourself feel better and I never minded. I don't mind now, much . I could do without the accessory to murder after the fact but," he smiles, unable to help himself, "having you here, like this, in my bed, for a few days seems worth whatever else has happened between us in the past. You'll go home and meet a nice bloke. I'll make the call and drop the phone somewhere public."

"That sounds so sad."

"I just know you." There's nothing he finds sad about it, just a truth they both need to know is in front of them. "Much like Caleb's desire for Hanna your desire is for him. I broke Melissa's heart but it was better than continuing the lie. I do wish your heart wasn't broken, but I think it's right you'll know. This will all seem like a distant memory."

"Are you mad I killed someone?"

"No," he shakes his head, welcoming the subject change. "I'm not mad Melissa killed Bethany. I just wish it wasn't a lie in a list of many. Our relationship was complicated and you barely get on with your sister I don't think I need to explain it."

"It's what our family is good at. Murder and secrets."

"All families have their niche."

It's only when she falls asleep does he slip out from the bed and into the living room. He's glad it's just the two of them for a myriad of reasons but her most recent confession happens to top the list. The whole thing still hasn't quite processed and he does his best not to imagine the scene before him. She didn't share details so his own images are only things he makes up, but still...it's not anything he expects from Spencer.

He does wonder what does he expect out of her? They are so short within each other's lives that he doesn't really know Spencer at all outside of anything Melissa told him, which was just enough to keep him informed about the events happening. It wasn't as if her and her friends could get kidnapped without half the world knowing, especially her own sister. He wouldn't have thought it was Charlotte behind everything, but life continues to prove Wren wrong more often than not.

"You left." Spencer whispers as she walks out from the hall, moving to sit on the couch.

"I was going to make us dinner."

The explanation seems to satisfy her as he she doesn't reply while he moves around the kitchen. As the silence lingers between the two of them he can't help but think about how different this version of Spencer is. She is so unapologetically herself that he wonders if this is the girl she is when no one is around. She doesn't need to be who her friends think she is, her family, her boyfriend. She can just be in a foreign city with a man who is familiar yet unfamiliar. If he could keep her like this forever he would. That is too selfish...even for Wren.

"I'll see if I can get a flight tomorrow," she finally says.

"I can take you to the airport."

"That'll be nice."

Silence hangs in the air between the two of them but it's somehow different. Every time he looks over at her there is something he can't explain. A mood shifting away from the dampers that plague them. It's foolish to pretend everything is fine, but when the darkness creeps in it's impossible to escape it. Or near impossible.

She grabs a bottle of wine and deliberately brushes past him, Wren watching her out of the corner of his eye as she reaches to grab the wine glasses on the top shelf. All too easily it makes him desire far more than dinner. Eating food seems as if it moves down to the lowest on the list of priorities. Not that she says or does anything more, so he doesn't, finding themselves seated at the table shortly after.

"Are you trying to ply me, Miss Hastings?" He questions as she pours them both a glass of wine.

"Maybe," she whispers in his ear so softly it causes a shiver to run down his spine.

It's not a tone she uses often with him. Not much of a tone they ever have much opportunity to find use out of. Only it manages to make him crazy all the same. "Food," he whispers to himself as he tries to focus. It is far better than focusing on her and how she was driving him wild just by existing . There is nothing extraordinary about the way she is in the moment. She's just Spencer.

"You need to shower." She instructs him as she grabs the plates off of the table and moves to the sink.

"Bossy."

"I'm not."

Wren raises an eyebrow at her as she stands from the table. If Spencer Jill Hastings isn't bossy he has no idea who in the world possibly could be. He enjoys it, most of the time. Not that he cares to share that little detail.

"Shower." She repeats with a smile, as if makes her less bossy.

Wren doesn't walk towards the bathroom, instead finds himself standing behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso. "We can save water if we shower together."

"Hmm, when did you become Mr. Environmental man?"

"The moment you told me to shower." He presses a kiss to her shoulder. He wants her more than did earlier, taking the definite mood shift for all it was worth. "It'll be fun. Way more fun than taking it upon yourself to do my dishes."

"You go shower," she begins, turning her head to look back at him, "and I'll meet you in the bedroom. For some fun."

"Do I get a kiss?"

"No."

There's a smile in her denial that makes him smile in return, only to leave her in the kitchen and proceeding to the shower. After the day he had it wasn't as if he didn't need it, but a shower with Spencer seems far more entertaining than standing alone under the stream. He lets out a breath and allows the hot water to near burn his skin as he tries his best not to think about things that only complicate his life further. Something of a toss up between Spencer and work.

When he gets out of the shower she's lying on the bed, scrolling through her phone. She's attached to that little thing. So much so it makes him wonder. He only lays down next to her, on his side, using his arm to prop his head up.

"You know, I got fired." She speaks almost absently as he doesn't bother to look at him.

"Right now?"

"No, a week ago. I never went because of...things in Rosewood. It was only supposed to be a few weeks but," she lets out a sigh and tosses her phone on the pillow, "now I'm here."

"Until tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow."

"So," he moves so he's closer to her, "we should make the most of it."

"Only want me for the sex?"

"Yes." No part of him is actually serious, especially not as he lets out a light laugh.

She swats him on the chest. "Wren."

He tucks the loose thread of hair behind her ear. "It's never been about sex. We were friends when I was dating Melissa."

"I don't think we were ever just friends." She whispers as she runs her fingers along his jaw. "Do you want to know why I broke up with Toby?"

"Only if you want to tell me." He is curious, too curious for his own good, but doesn't want her to feel a sense of obligation. As if she's in his bed and needs to offer up things of herself.

"We were growing apart. I knew that we probably needed to end things. I got pregnant and...I got an abortion." She only bothers to look up at him when the last word is uttered.

Wren isn't sure what he expected her to say. That did not happen to be it. Not that there was any judgement, just surprise. "Do you regret it?"

"No."

"Then it was the right choice." He pauses for a moment, "Melissa wanted kids."

"And you didn't?"

He doesn't answer her. "Did she ever tell you how we met?"

Spencer shakes her head, "We didn't talk about you all that much."

"She was in line in front of me at Starbucks and just started chatting away. It didn't even take us two months to get engaged. I think if we had gotten married we'd be divorced, and we would have kids to shuffle back and forth." It's odd that when he looks at Spencer he doesn't see anything about Melissa that makes him think of them as sisters. The eyes, maybe, if he really concentrates, but they are so entirely different. In a way that makes him question how he can ever hold feelings for women that are near polar opposites. He and Melissa certainly had their problems, but he'd be a lying fool to act as if if there wasn't something real for her once upon a time. All nothing more than a series of what ifs. The past matters little as he lies with her and exists within the moment. "I had to grow up without a dad and a nanny for mother once it all...fell apart. I don't want that for any kid I have."

"What happened?"

"For as long as I could remember he had problems and when I was ten he just…" It's his turn to be the one who shrugs and does little to finish his answer. "There are places far worse than Radley in the world."

"You never told me that." Her voice is soft as she closes the distance between them, brushing her lips against his. "I'm sorry, Wren."

"Mm, I think we can find far better things to focus on."

She doesn't kiss him, not yet, not even with how close her lips are to meeting his. "And what do you have in mind?"

"Kiss me and find out."