Cormac grinned. "I never said they counted, I just said I was satisfied," he said happily. There was something cute about the way they were acting, but something comfortable and easy, too. He wasn't sure what to think of it, what he wanted to think of it. Could it always be this easy from now on? He laughed. "Oh, but I will," he said, as if it as a promise. His tone was littered with teasing and joking so it was easy to see he wasn't taking it all too seriously or maybe he just didn't care enough. He did care, though. He cared more than he wanted to admit to Astoria or himself. "See, I don't understand why you can't say I'm right just to placate me when you know you're always right anyway? Do you really need that validation?" he asked playfully.
When her hand slipped under his shirt to caress his skin, he swallowed audibly and trying to ignore it. He couldn't ignore it. With her actual touch now accompanying the fantasies that were being started in his head, it was impossible? He was positive that she was also doing it on purpose. There was a part of him that wanted her to be doing it on purpose no matter how cruel and teasing it was. He wanted her to want him, to think of him like that. He smiled, leaning forward and kissing the side of her head. When he pulled back, he just continued to play with her hair idly, barely thinking of it. He just wanted to. He was enjoying himself. "Falcy is, unlike me, sweet, so yes. But see, those sweet ones, they do it accidentally. And unlike with people like me, you don't even see it coming. It probably hurts worse," he teased, "Like I said, Falcy is a real heartbreaker."
He laughed. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not," he said with a grin. He looked at the wall again before smirking at her. "Oh, I agree," he said with a suggestive smile. He could tell even Astoria didn't think she was saint so he couldn't be insulting her with his playing. "No, I said it first. So you have to go first. It's how the saying works!" he protested playfully.
Cormac felt strangely relieved, proud of himself, and glad that she hadn't shared the Eiffel Tower story with someone else and he had no idea why. Well, he did, but not one that he'd admit was true. He knew he was jealous, but he didn't want to be. He refused to be. They had just said they were friends! He had no right to be jealous over a friend, did he? He smiled. "Well, that's definitely a nice place for a second honeymoon," he said. He was thrilled with the use of 'his wife' in reference to her friend. This friend was married! They couldn't be like he and Astoria where. They didn't sleep together if he was married. And anyway, this friend wasn't the one she'd just agreed to go to Paris with either. He loved the way she still responded to his touch, to his kiss, even now when they throw around the dreaded word "friend" in relation to each other. He could ignore the word when she kissed him back like this, teased him, and even asked for him to kiss her again in different words. Leaning forward, he ignored the rest of what as said and kissed her again. This time it was passionate and one he wasn't going to end so quickly.