She threw her head back and exhaled a sound of frustration, complete with her hands hitting either side of the cushion she sat on. First he was late, then he made it rain with filthy valet money which was actually fun, so now this list doesn't make any sense, but damn it, Finn.
"Fine." She could have called the entire game off and demanded more rubbing, less talking. Such was her fickle nature. Tonight, she acquiesced -- so far. "I cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye," she said, and rolled her eyes which would not have needles in them anytime soon even if she did end up lying.
"I am actually... ... ...ticklish, ugh, I hate that word. 'Ticklish.' It just sounds gross. Okay, now," and she pointed with a swirl of her finger to the foot on his leg, "truth or truth, Sherlock?"