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(ooc: *The squirells throw around confetti and pull down a banner that reads: YOU OWE US 5 BUCKS LARRY! Several of the squirells line up to bet on whether this will be a full-scale game of tonsil hockey.*)
~She rests her head contentadely on his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping. Her mind told her she was in the pre-liminary stages of necking with a beat-up man in the middle of the forest. Her heart told her mind to ■■■■ off. She moved her head from his shoulder and leaned forward to kiss him again.~
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