"For the pasta alone, we should stay," he teased but a part of him really meant it. When Frederick had started this fight, he never imagined it would land them here. Alliances with other Originals were always destined to be precarious at best, but he thought he had a handle on it. He did. There was a plan despite it all. Frederick had started to doubt if it was worth it, though. His brow furrowed at Taylor's thanks, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to her forehead in response. "You certainly don't have to thank me, my love."
Frederick kept his eyes on her, the tension from his body easing at last. There was no running away, he knew that. And she wouldn't. His brave and ferocious Taylor would never back down. "If anything, I should be thanking you. I don't know what I would do without you here, Taylor. I mean that, truly. I know that I can always count on you and that is such a rarity... So, thank you."
"I mean, I am certainly tempted, and it has nothing to do with the pasta." It wouldn't be for good; Taylor had too much of a connection to Havensdale to even contemplate the idea. She would not describe herself as stressed, per say, but maybe a long vacation would do her some good. When in Rome (or, in her case, Tuscany). "I know I don't have to, but I want to," she told Frederick.
At his comment about wanting to thank her, Taylor's eyes widened a little. She genuinely had not been expecting that. Frederick had complimented her before, many times, and she always believed him. She still believed him, when he said that he could count on her, because she wanted him to count on her. "You can," she promised. "Always." She had told him that before, but it didn't matter. She would tell him it a thousand times if he wanted her to. "But really, you set this all up, got us here. All I'm doing is being your gorgeous and supportive arm candy."
