“You’re drunk.”

Molly paused, drawing her forefinger against the collar of his t-shirt. She bit at her lip, swallowing a giggle, and looked at him. His eyes were narrowed, staring at her, concern in his face and his words, and she sighed, dropping her head to nuzzle against his neck. “Alright,” she said quietly, a whine edged at her voice. She smiled, and flicked her gaze back up to him. “Can we still talk about drowning?”

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