Why not? [ she grips his wrist, first. wraps her hand around it and squeezes tightly. then releases him; unfurls her fingers but keeps them draped across his skin because she can feel the rush of blood in his veins and likes it. there's something off in it, too — it's so fast, but she chalks that up to embarrassment for the time being. ]

Fifth grade, Derek. I know you did F.L.A.S.H., too. It's all natural. [ and it was probably as awful and full of inappropriate laughter as when she had taken it. but he's meant to laugh, to lighten up at that. and when he doesn't, she tries a less jovial approach. a serious one for her oh so serious brother. ] And -... I'm kind of worried about you. Should I be worried about you?