"Duck," said Ellie. "Pet names in French are... Different, I suppose. My mother called me petit chou until I was... Nineteen?"
"Little cabbage," she added a moment later, remembering that David couldn't have suddenly learned French through osmosis.
So funny. Nice. We're sharing. Everything was beautiful, like stars and cupcakes. Or fireworks. Someone said something about high school, but even that had been beautiful. Hadn't it? Sure.
But now Ellie was where she was -- closer to him -- and apparently she'd sung out loud instead of simply in her head. The rest of the lyrics promptly vanished from all memory at the sound of David's voice, however, except for the very last line: you're not strange enough. Never strange enough.
Ellie chose a deep breath over responding to his half-question. This was the moment where she would have considered a very important checklist, if of the mind to do so. Firstly, what did all of this mean? What exactly was happening? And, most importantly of all, why? Even David was wondering.
I just want to feel things. So let them happen.
Ellie pressed further forward, allowing the weight of her torso to rest in David's lap. When she finally released the smoke -- held in so long her eyes were glittering -- it was in a slow, deliberate plume against his lips. Sharing again. Why not?
"I'm not dangerous," she told him in a whisper, giggling again.