Fred continued to watch Wesley as he looked away, her tired mind trying its best to translate what just transpired. Had he just not seen? Or was he somehow sending her a silent message of his own. It felt like the worst possible night to be navigating her way towards any kind of answer.
But when was there a good night? When was there last good night?
The only one Fred could think of that even came close was the first night Wesley stayed over to her place, and they'd stayed up late eating Chinese food. And talking. Honestly, she'd enjoyed that even more. But that night only happened because he'd nearly burned up along with his apartment.
She was so tired of everything coming in degrees.
Fred stiffened at Wesley's suggestion, and immediately regretted it. Her entirely body - from tip to tired toe - protested. And it was only going to be worse in the morning. But she continued to stare at him, not entirely certain she'd heard him correctly.
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But when was there a good night? When was there last good night?
The only one Fred could think of that even came close was the first night Wesley stayed over to her place, and they'd stayed up late eating Chinese food. And talking. Honestly, she'd enjoyed that even more. But that night only happened because he'd nearly burned up along with his apartment.
She was so tired of everything coming in degrees.
Fred stiffened at Wesley's suggestion, and immediately regretted it. Her entirely body - from tip to tired toe - protested. And it was only going to be worse in the morning. But she continued to stare at him, not entirely certain she'd heard him correctly.
"You want me to what?"