That night, Nigel and Alexis sat on the floor in front of the gas fireplace in the penthouse suite's living room, trying to decide who the best storyteller was.

'… so then, he blows up!'

'What? What do you mean, he blows up?' Alexis asked, pouring a rum and mango mix into her frosted glass.

'He blew up! Like a hamster in a microwave!' Nigel exclaimed, throwing his arms up.

'A hamster-!?'

'We must've ignited the gasses in the lower intestine with the saw while we were trying to cut the ribcage, but –'

'Okay! Okay, too much information! What did you do?'

'Well, we put him back together, didn't we!'

'Of course you did…'

'Well, it was funny – that is, after we were sure the rabbis weren't going to sue us.'

'Sue you? I'd think they were going to murder you – you blew him up!'

'Purely accidental!'

'Okay, okay, fine. You blew up a dead man – but imagine baking so terribly that not even livestock would eat it.'

'What are you talking about?'

'My mom was a horrid cook. Couldn't cook to save her life. One day, she makes a cake. This big, fruity, cheesy monstrosity. Can barely get it out of the pan. Obviously no one wants to try it, so she has to throw it out.She won't even try it, it looks so rancid. So, she brings it into the back where the neighbours keep chickens. She throws it out to them. They walk up to it –' She motioned a chicken's jerky movements '-take one look-' She tilted her head to the side curiously ' -and they run. I swear you've never seen chickens book it like these ones did.'

'No way.'

'Really! She was that bad. I always used to tease her about it…' She trailed off, the wild smile fading ever so slightly.

'And now you can't tease her at all?' Nigel asked, taking her hand.

Alexis sighed. 'Yeah. Pretty much.'

They sat in silence for a moment, their skin still blushing from laughter, their grins still plain. But there was something more between them.

'Know what?' Nigel asked suddenly, laying his head onto Alexis's lap and looking up at her.

'What?' she asked, putting down her drink and placing her ice cold hand on his forehead.

'I think that you were right.'

'Of course I was. About what, exactly?'

'That I should go back to London. See the family, all that. Besides, it's been ages since I had a half decent plate of fish and chips. They drown everything with catsup and cheese here – and lately I've been craving deep fried mars bars covered in sugar.'

'That is disgusting. I had one bite a few years ago and I almost threw up.'

'What! Next thing you'll be telling me is you can't stand bread and butter pudding!'

'Well…'

'No!'

'It's just so damn unhealthy! I never ate McDonalds out of principal, and then I just… couldn't stand intensely deep fried, fat filled foods!'

'C'mon, luv, it's not as bad as that! All's well in moderation.'

'… ewe.'

'That's it – when we go to England I'm bringing you out and we're going to go for the single most unhealthy outing you'll've ever been on.'

'Oh, no. No, no, no. I refuse! That's gross. And unhealthy. And… and icky!' Her words were beginning to slur slightly as the rum caught up to her system.

'Icky?' Nigel burst out laughing, and rolled onto his side. 'You attended Oxford and all you've got to show for it is icky?'

'Icky is a perfectly respectable descriptor!' Alexis cried pompously, pushing him off her lap. 'It's… it's effective in portraying an unpleasant taste, isn't it?'

'Yes – but it's just so cutesy! Like this one time, we were at Jordan's for dinner, and Dr Macy described having sex six times in a day, saying that we're humans, not 'bunnies'. It was just so perfectly out of character, it was hilarious. That was, of course, after I brought out a bottle of ouzo.' Nigel sat up and pulled Alexis close, kissing her on her glowing cheeks. 'You're cute when you're drunk.'

'I'm not drunk. I'm buzzed. Ladies do not get drunk.' She pronounced her t's and k's impeccably, and that only made them burst out laughing once again.

'Well, then, you're obviously not a lady!'

Alexis's mouth opened wide in shock, and she pushed him playfully aside.

'I am a lady. Or, at least, that's what everyone tells me. I've always been the 'lady', you know.'

'I can see that,' he laughed, imitating her slur.

'No, really. Ever since elementary. I was the one who looked ten years too old, who was ten years too mature, who was ten years ahead of everyone else – but… ten years behind. Kinda. If that makes any sense.'

'I suppose so. You were an only child, your best friend was immature, you grew up around adults, not children… and your soul seems old.'

She was silent for a moment, and mumbled, more to herself than to him, 'I... suppose ...'

Nigel sat beside her, and held her so her head was resting on his shoulder. 'Luv?'

'Mmm.' There was a pensive silence as the gas fireplace flickered soberly. 'My parents… their car accident… my dad was… he, um… he had been drinking… and, uh… smoking… he just…' Tears started rolling silently down her cheeks. 'Not smoking. Smoking.' She looked up at Nigel, willing him to understand without her having to say it. 'He did that a lot. He... that's why I was so scared... but… he was always doing that… and then mum got to yelling at him… God knows why she let him drive… and when I think of the times I got in the car with him…'

'Was he…?'

'To this day, I have no idea. I don't… I don't like to think about…'

'Addiction?'

She shuddered at the word.

'He was my daddy. He took care of me… but… he would… would get tipsy or high… and mum would come home and start in on me… 'Alexis, why are you letting him drink so much? Why are you letting him smoke? Tell him you want him to stop.' But… I just… I just couldn't. He was my daddy. He was… was…'

'She put the responsibility on you.'

'She would come home, and… she'd take all her frustrations out on dad and me. She'd yell at us about the state of the kitchen, the bedrooms, the bathrooms… and about dad's… dad's hobbies. She'd be lovely one moment, terrible the next. You'd never know how to act around her because she might be in a mood…'

Nigel pulled her closer and kissed her hair. 'Luv… did she ever-'

'No!' she shouted a little too loud. 'She'd never hit me. She threw things, but she would never, never hit me. Daddy used to say that… that she'd hit him when they first got married, first had me…. Post-partum depression and all that… he got her to stop, though. But then she'd started banging doors shut, yelling – screaming – madly, and throwing shoes and pans and dishes… I always felt like I had to be grown up and take care of them… mum cried to me more than I ever cried to her…'

'Oh, Alexis…'

'Sometimes I just hated them… that's one of the reasons I moved so far away… but now, I miss them so much, Nigel… I dunno how you can stay away from your dad when he's still alive. All I have in aunts and uncles and cousins who I was never really… dedicated to. But my mum and dad…'

'Alexis…'

They descended into a deep, brooding silence then, Nigel stroking Alexis's back, shoulders, and neck as she sobbed erratically into his lap. It was only until long after her tears ceased that Nigel heard felt Alexis's breathing, calm and slow.

Soon afterwards, he, too, was asleep – but not without promising himself that he would never, ever again think of getting smashed as an acceptable passing of time.