Something about the mental image presented was delightful – the very refined Conor hanging from a tree with his tongue stuck out. Zanna couldn't help but giggle. "Are you sure? Maybe you should try again. Maybe you've gotten better!"
Grinning, Zanna closed the distance between them as he stood, stepping lightly up onto the bench's seat, and from there onto the top of it, balancing thoughtlessly on the slim, slippery surface. "You have not come out lately. I thought you must be lonely."