"I think that's the first time in twenty years I've been called 'sweet'," he muses.

Her intentions are in line with his, at the moment, because he doesn't want her going anywhere. Not when she's like this.

(He's not sure he's ever seen her look this young before.)

"C'mere and sit," he says, tossing aside a book to free up the entire couch. If she'll let him, he intends to let her curl up in his lap (or even curl up on top of him, laying down, because it might make the room spin less that way) for awhile.