September, 2014
He wasn’t a psychologist, he didn’t even play one on TV. He didn’t understand what caused Elvira’s brain to dwell so deeply in the whimsical. He’d only been treated to the abbreviated version of her past, but Dom did know one thing – he’d protect that quirkiness like it was the loneliest flower ever. One of the easiest ways, he’d found, laid within her GoT cookie jar. It remained stocked, almost daily, with all of the strawberry-blond beauty’s most delectable f-a-v-e-s. It was like Christmas every morning watching her face light up and her little nose crinkle at the surprise.