(Back ground info: She is sporting an injury. A doctor has seen it and claims it’s not life threatening, but it is certainly uncomfortable.)
He stowed things in his back pack as he prepared to leave for work.
She leaned over the back of the couch and handed him his lunch. As He buckled his backpack closed She queried, “Aren’t you supposed to be my big brave hero?”
He froze and stared at her.
“Well?” She prompted.
His gaze quickly scanned the living room in search of a threat. He approached her slowly.
She held out her hands and tipped her head in an I’m waiting gesture.
His clasped her shoulders and looked her up and down. Once again He scanned the room. Finally He asked, “What do you need?”
She grinned at him. “What’s the matter? Afraid to commit?”
He answered, “Let’s just say I know you. What’s up?”
She said, “You are my Hero. You are supposed to protect me and keep me safe from all harm, yet just now when I handed you your lunch, the couch attacked me and you did nothing!”
Oh,” he said. He let go of her shoulders and turned to the coat closest.
“Oh?” She repeated. “Just ‘oh’? The couch blatantly smacked me right on my owie and you aren’t even going to defend me?”
He shrugged into his windbreaker, then turned to face her. “I’m sorry,” he said, “But I haven’t yet found a way to protect you from yourself.”
“Ack!” She put her hands on her hips. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
He grinned at her — grinned! — and said, “I think you know what I mean.”
“You’re right,” She said. “I do know you’re mean!”
“Yes, dear.” He walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m going to work now. Do try and get along with the furniture while I’m gone.”