Her other foot slides over his. Two can play at this game. That old desire to be tucked up close, all the time, is back in full force. It's easier than holding hands, when they're occupied with forks.

"Maybe we should have taken smaller slices," she muses, not really complaining. If her killer-robot-service-worker-induced stay has proven anything, they'll find ways to burn off the energy of all this excess sugar if they can't sleep.

She's intrigued enough to make short work of it, watching him expectantly the whole time.