Oh what the fucking fuckity fuck? Alex was severely tempted to bang her head against a desk. Not that there were any desks around. A symbolic desk! Because the last time he had babbled like that had been when the kitchens at the hotel had ordered in some of that horrid drink and Hal had gotten to some before Tom had managed to throw it all out.
And he was using logic at her. Really, it was not fair to use logic on her. "I don't know how you got it, but you clearly did and don't you give me that look, mister, I know you far too well for that one and I know your Kia Ora face and this is it. This is most definitely it."
But then he was babbling again at her and it was annoyingly easy for him to break her heart all over again. Seeing her terrified him. He thought she should stake him. She was walking proof. And hold on a fucking minute did he just ask if he could kiss her?
Alex arched one elegant and extremely pointed eyebrow at Hal. "Seriously? Seriously? You can't just ask a girl if you can.... and really not like.... and you were... and are... Oh fucking hell, Hal."
Because she wanted to kiss him. And wanted to run a mile from him, all at the same time because she had seen Him, Him who needed the fucking capitalization because he was just that level of fucked up and He had scared the crap out of her, and yet this right here was her Hal again, just fucking high on Kai-fucking-Ora.
"Give me the Kia Ora," she held her hand out. "I know you've got some and we can discuss any kissing arrangements when you're not all high off your tits on processed sugars. Because no one is kissing me if there's going to be a fucking crashing sugar coma happening right after, we clear? Any kissing must be actually wanted kissing."