When George's arm fell across her shoulder, Angelina felt comfortable. There were few feelings in the world Angelina would trade for, and she was perfectly content. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to lean on George, but she was grateful something had. This was a position she'd found herself in countless times before, so it felt natural, familiar, and most of all Angelina felt safe. It was a feeling she hadn't felt in a while. Sure she knew no one was going to jump out and attack her, no one was going to break in her flat in the middle of the night, but that didn't mean she felt safe. Right now Angelina knew she was safe, but she also felt safe.
"Yeah? I think I remember F--- that." Angelina said, almost saying 'I remember Fred saying that'. Normally it was fine to bring up things Fred said to George, but today was different. Ang didn't want to cry, not in front of George. Sure he had seen her happy, cruel, and possibly even upset, and sure Fred had made her cry on more than one occasion, but Angelina was fairly sure George had never watched her cry. Ang realized that everyone cried, but she didn't want the pity, and she definitely didn't want George to get upset. Neither of them were ready for it, and Angelina was perfectly happy ignoring the situation they both desperately needed to talk about.
Snuggling her head further into George's chest, Angelina closed up what little space had been between them. "Oh, they tell lots of stores. Each one is different. There's a bunch of... types. There's a word that sounds like gender but I forget it right now. Stories about people falling in love, scary stories about masked killers, and funny stories about people going to weddings and causing shenanigans. There's really actually a story for everyone. If you wanted I could let you borrow some. Or you could come over and we could watch some."