[ Right, of course right, but he lifts his head—and one of his arms, to catch her hand and make sure her skritching fingers don't get too far away—to try to fix her with a fake-offended glare. And to fail, mostly, because raising his head disrupts the delicate tenting of the blanket and makes it fall in front of his face instead.
no subject
Still: ]
You have five secrets?
[ So many! (It's not many.) ]