She had a point, he guessed, but still! Knock on the door! Or kick it, or something, and then yell. Chris was probably, deep in his heart of hearts, a raging hypocrite, but he'd never admit it. Things made sense to him, therefore obviously they made sense to other people.
"It's not like horror-blood-gore-aliens-monsters-chainsaw BS scary," he said, flicking off the lights and climbing over the back of the couch to rejoin her as the menu, in all its glowing glory, came up on the screen. "You keep the lights on for that. This is like psychological mindfuck what-the-fuck-am-I-watching scary. Though I'm pretty sure they didn't intend it to be that way." He glanced at her, half-grinning. "The director got committed to an asylum after the finished filming."
Which hadn't actually had anything to do with the film, he'd admit, but it was still one hell of a lead-up.