Re: Mission Uncomfortable: Secret Santa Edition
"I wouldn't write love sonnets to a baby. That's creepy." That was Reece's retort, but he smiled and shrugged in an exaggerated 'oh well, you can't please everyone!' gesture. He wasn't watching himself interact with Sasha as an observer, not like Abe or Cat, so he really wasn't thinking anything about it. Not that he ever would've called Cat someone who preferred the calm. Because, no. Just because her anger didn't explode didn't mean she was calm. Cat would watch you bleed out from three feet away. Even Reece knew that.—Not that any of that was applicable. He listened to the women discuss rules of the game as he came back from the kitchen to get Cat's glass.
In the kitchen area, he poured three mimosas and a glass of milk. He listened to Abe talk about a tiki bar and a tiki hut. He came back out, three drinks in one (metal) hand, the fourth in the other. (And a lot of cutlery.) He handed them out, giving Cat back her glass, giving Abe one, and handing the milk to Sasha. He sat on the sofa beside Cat, butted against her, without the grace or plop of either of the sisters. He was a regular person, who sat like a regular person. He looked at the projector and with his eye, he started the download of the Jim Carrey movie and turned the projector on. He sipped his drink after dumping the knives and forks by the cakes. "Did you suggest we eat every time someone says the word 'Whoville'?" He looked at Cat. "Because I just said 'Whoville.'"