"Actually," Alex took a very unneeded breath as she prepared for the retort of a rant. "You do have a Kia Ora Face, Mr Hasn't Seen His Own Face In Centuries, so how would you even know about your own face anyway, and I've seen you on the Kia Ora before, just the once, because some sodding moron got some in the hotel before Tom got rid of it all and that one time was enough to fucking scar me and Tom for life."
There was been singing. Which had been surprisingly good. And, well, nudity. Which had been interesting.
She had been poised to simply keep the banter-slash-argument going when he said that. About how she wanted to kiss him. Because she did and that was just such a Harry thing to say and Alex stepped back as though she'd actually been slapped.
"Don't." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Don't say the kinds of things that validates the fucking bullshit that he said, the last shit he said to me before he tried to leave and I had to stop him. Don't you get it? I was about to watch you and Tom fight to the fucking death, Hal. So don't talk to me about how I want to kiss you, I just want you to not be dead because it seems that that's a lot to fucking hope for as it is." And god, she'd been moments away from losing him, losing both of them for good. Because even if Tom had survived the fight, he'd never have been the same, not after killing his best friend like that.
Why did ghosts have to still bloody cry? It was so fucking unfair. Alex just tilted her head with a glare as she held out her hand at a slightly different angle, and with a push of energy she made Hal's jacket flare open. "I'm not that little."