"You wound me," Sol says, pressing his long hand against his heart, eyes crinkling as he fails to keep the smile off. He misses this, the banter and the easiness of being with her, but it's far more him to take it when he's got it than to lament when he doesn't. "Asylum Tutu Ace Ventura is at least as good as drag," he protests, though if Torrie carries on with her puppy faces they both know he'll bend. There are certain things that Sol gets stubborn on, and when that happens he can be as rigid as anyone in the world, but mostly he likes to please more than he likes to butt heads. "And you're the one person I thought I was safe from the 'you're too skinny' talks," he adds, snagging her ankle to intercept the kick, and ringing it with his thumb and middle finger - whether because he's built extra long or because they're both built skinny-almost-bony, he's not judging.
He doesn't consider before he answers because he'd already planned on being asked, and his grin is cheeky and wheedling. "I thought I'd impose for the night," he admits, and lets go of her ankle to mess over her hair the way he used to to make her swat at him as kids. "That way I can ramble at you in the dark til you smother me with your pillow. We have to keep the family traditions alive, here." Said with irony, because clearly two less traditional people never graced the Reed name. They've always lived their lives, each living their own way, and then met back in the middle, and he's grateful that this is still something they have. Here and there over the years it's looked like him coming to her aide, but in truth Solomon doesn't know where he would be without the anchor of his sister to come back to.