In all her years, Vivian had never felt for a man like she felt for Slater, of that much, she was certain. Even her adoration for Harry had been different; it had been a kind of fruitless adoration, the unchecked love that came with the realisation it would never go anywhere. Harry would never love her, so she'd had nothing to lose. But Slater, Slater was real, Slater was someone she had a chance with, and so she felt differently for him. Her love was less quixotic, and as such, more profound.
The way he looked at her was with such intensity that it took her breath away for a moment, her words failing her. It wasn't an 'I love you too', but this was Slater - it was as good as. Even if it wasn't, being special to him was more than she could have ever hoped for, and she held his gaze, not wanting to shatter the moment. "I ain't never been special before. I hope you realise how happy it makes me," She whispered eventually, then kissed him again, sliding up to sit herself in his lap, her arms tight around his neck. This was turning into a bloody good birthday.