“Who says I want anything?”
“Well, you’re speaking to me, so I assume you have a good reason for interrupting my book.”
“Since when did I need a reason to speak with the love of my life?”
“Since when did you start calling me the love of your life?”
“You’re the one who lives to be melodramatic. I thought you’d like that better than boyfriend.”
“Well, you were right about one thing, the thought of being your boyfriend makes me want to gag.”
“Hey! Stop smirking! That was not funny! You do not get to smirk at that!”
“Nothing! I really truly just came over here to chat, and now you’re grilling me as if I’m going through customs!”
“Please state the purpose of your visit Mr. Snow. Do you have anything you wish to declare?”
“Is that really your best American accent? After all those times we nearly died there?”
“Nearly being killed in a place doesn’t make you a native all of sudden! If you’d nearly died in Paris would you expect to suddenly speak French?”
“I already speak French.”
“I realize that, but I feel you could have at least chosen a language I haven’t already studied.”
“Like what? You know Latin. A language that has been dead for like a million years!”
“Did you sleep through all of your classes at Watford?”
“I didn’t come here to be belittled.”
“I was kidding! It was a joke! You’re very intelligent. Will you come back here?!”
“Ok, I’m going to take the fact that you haven’t left yet as a solid maybe.”
“Look, I’m sorry. You are so much more important than some fucking book. And easier on the eyes too.”
“Look, I’m still not used to this whole ‘dating’ thing. I know, I’m fantastic at at everything I do,”
“But dating you? That’s taken some getting used to. I mean, for seven and a half years, fighting was the only way we communicated. Every time you walk in that door, I still have the urge to either kiss you or kill you. So far I’ve managed to stick to the latter. But… I’m still not sure how to talk to you without picking a fight. Or, you know, making out.”
“I don’t know, it’s probably stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s actually… sweet.”
“Well, how about we start over?”
“Ok. So you walk in and say…”
“No. You say hi back, because we are not savages.”
“Ugh, good enough. Now I’ll say, how was your day?”
“What, did you want a sonnet?”
“No, but at the very least you could ask about my day as well.”
“hOw WaS yOuR dAy sNoW????”
“It was a lot better before this conversation started. Now, we’ve shared about our days, so you say…”
“You want to know what I want? Really?”
“Why do you think I’m asking?”
“Fine then. What I want is to sit and chat with you. What I want is to have some semblance of a normal relationship where we share our problems and don’t treat every conversation like an interrogation. What I want is a fucking hug from my boyfriend who I’ve missed all day during a very stressful day of work.”
“Well why didn’t you just say so?”
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