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" Twice ? Damn, Winnie, You Might Even Have Me Beat There. " She Jokes About Killing Him And He Can't

" twice ? damn, winnie, you might even have me beat there. " she jokes about killing him and he can't help the smirk that flickers. he leans in, voice low, and with a familiar sardonic humour that not many could handle says, " eh, you'd be doing me a favour. " but as she continues, he stays quiet, let's her talk. isn't quite sure what he's expecting. then it comes and he smiles and it isn't teasing or sarcastic or anything in-between. it's genuine, soft, so unlike him some might never believe it. " that's cool, " he responds, and in a weird way he feels . . . proud of her ? knows all too well how coming out can feel. " we're a pretty decent club. i mean, there's the occasional asshole, myself included, but overall it's not too bad. " grin grows briefly, then fades. a moment of quiet before he asks, “ how long have you been out for ? ”

"well, luckily for you, i've actually done that TWICE. there's so much for you to learn about me," she jokes, pushing herself back on the swing. there was comfort in kai and the park-- the need to be young and innocent again. it seemed kai needed that just as much as she did. "well, that is good news. otherwise, i'd have to kill you." a funny statement, coming from winnie of all people. the girl couldn't even kill a spider. "i guess an ear for now. maybe advice if you think i'm stupid or whatever. which, would be a very valid response." something she wouldn't have agreed with back when everything was fresh. "so, i'm..." the word gets caught in her throat. she's been out for three years, but hasn't really talked about it. at least not verbally. it's almost as hard to say it to kai as it was to say it to her parents. "bisexual," she finally gets out. "but, that's new. well, not NEW, but, like, new, i guess... it took a long time for me to be okay with saying that."
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Russell, I think we should work on those last words.
Almost Famous (2000) dir. Cameron Crowe.
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the confession from ace has a dry paintbrush flinging from ronnie's side of the room to his, counting on her aim to knock him in the leg. "a whole hour ?!" she's laughing despite her disapproval, standing to give her limbs a much needed stretch. "it's almost like you want a uti or something." her phone is pulled out, uber eats screen glowing like a beacon. "and a stomach bug apparently. but, not to worry, your saving grace is here. what are we ordering ?"




KRISTIN DAVIS as CHARLOTTE YORK in Sex and the City (1998 — 2004)
kyro chuckles, smile growing wider as he takes note of her enthusiasm. he's a clean person, likes to be tidy, but his biggest problem is time and his often lack of it. " ah, well, according to my mother i've got quite the reflection, " he jokes with warmth, playful glint in his eyes. " what a shame i can't admire it on my countertops. " he leans in, lowers his voice as if she's about to let him in on a big secret. " are these special ingredients something you're willing to share, or is it a top-secret recipe ? "

maya watched as the crinkle of his brows gave away a slight sense of confusion. maya's lips then curved into a very knowing smile. she had seen that puzzled look before. especially because of the fact that it wasn't the first time she had ever mentioned it. " well. " she began. " maya clean is like over the top clean. you could scrub a countertop so much that you can see the light and your own reflection coming off of it. not a singular bit of dirt in sight! that kind of clean. " she responded with a shrug of her shoulders. " it's certainly not that hard to achieve. especially with my special cleaning ingredients! a little bit of maya clean magic will certainly do the trick! "


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the soft glow of the bar’s dim lights flickered like fireflies on a warm summer night , casting a cozy warmth over the polished wood counter . sadie stood behind the bar , her hands skillfully mixin’ a cocktail , the rhythmic clink of glass harmonizin’ with the gentle buzz of chatter . she glanced up and spotted a familiar face sittin’ at the far end — a regular who always seemed to carry a heavy load of unsaid thoughts .
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