“Jesus,” I believe I said.

She shrugged. I was genuinely impressed, and stalling to think.

“And I bet you say that to all the boys,” I said.

“All the boys,” she snapped back.

It was quiet for a while, before I had to say it myself:

“I’ve got a thing for eyes, sorry,” I repeated slowly. “Fuck.”

“Seven words to slay,” she shrugged again.

“Eight,” I said, “I think.”

“Whatever.”

Notes:

• The first of two stories from last night’s session, relayed consecutively.
• I’m still collating here; working out what, exactly, I did right might take a bit of time.