Hemingway listened as she spoke, and actually succeeded in paying attention and taking it all in, not letting himself become distracted by the whiskey bottle uncorked between them.
"Yeah, I guess so. I think I just pissed him off by asking for it," he admitted. "But, I know if my intentions had been... bad, then I would have been the worlds biggest asshole just to get it back. Maybe it's too much to expect of him. I shouldn't have asked. Anyway-" he shrugged it off. "You were right, you know? About not getting my hopes up. But you know what an idiot I can be like that," he admitted. It wasn't a bad quality. He just had the kind of mind that liked to romanticise.
She gave him a choice, and Hemingway gently bit his lower lip as if he was considering the two options. He only managed to keep the look up for a couple of seconds though before his smile was giving him away. He cupped her cheek in return and lifted himself from his slumped position to press his lips against hers.