"What'd you guys talk about?" he asked as she slid into the car.

"I'm picking up numbers left and right," she fibbed. "Told you I was awesome."

An enigmatic smile tugged the corners of his mouth upward. "Did she say anything about me?"

"Not everything is about you," she pointed out, artfully dodging the question. "Hey, um, do you know what this means?" She held up the box of foil, pointing at Betsy's handwritten Jim 7 Pam.† "I meant to ask her on my way out, but I forgot."

"Lemme see." He glanced at it before pulling away from the curb. "Oh, that's just an Irish ampersand."

Soon, they pulled up outside her apartment. "I'm so glad you came today," he said softly, lifting her hand to his lips. He kissed her palm tenderly, noting that it was starting to bruise. "Sorry again about… you know." He shrugged regretfully.

"You don't need to apologize for losing at nerf," she teased him. "It was bound to happen, what with you not being able to shoot me."

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Oh, absolutely I do," she said seriously. "You don't have to apologize for that, either. I'm sure you have your reasons for not wanting the world to see little Jimmy in a tutu." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. A reluctant smile playing around his lips, he dropped it. She continued, "I had a really great time today. Your family is awesome. And thanks for talking me into the pudding," she said affectionately. "It was the best, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it's my favorite dessert," he said, fondly entwining his fingers with hers. "Almost as good as her potato salad."

"You like her potato salad more than her pudding?" she asked nonchalantly.

He sighed wistfully. "I could eat it every day for the rest of my life."

She kissed him to hide her silly grin. He moaned quietly, sliding a hand into her hair. After a moment, she suggested, "I have a proposition." He tilted his head, all ears. "Could I interest you in a little mayhem, side of mischief? Your place?" She raised her eyebrows seductively.

He beamed, his face lighting up. "On a work night?" She nodded. "Are you sure?" She nodded vigorously. "Mmm." Eyes roving her face, he replied in a voice like molasses. "You're spoiling me. How am I supposed to go back to sleeping alone after three nights in a row with my Beesly?"

Maybe you won't have to, she thought impishly. Her lease was up for renewal soon. "So… I'm yours now?" 

"You will be tomorrow." He captured her lips in a kiss filled with promise, leaving her breathless with anticipation. "Three's the magic number."

"It's a good thing is breá liom tú, Jim," she said softly, hoping she'd gotten it right.

He blinked in shock, his heart beginning to race. "Beesly!" He laughed giddily. "Where'd you learn that?"

She smiled secretively. "I figured it out."

He gazed into her eyes. "Is breá liom tú, too." He'd have to thank 'Riss later.

Hearing him repeat the phrase, she realized with gratitude that the pronunciation was accurate, although she was unable to reproduce the finer points of the accent. Wait, did he just say… "Tutu?" she giggled.

He shook his head with a chuckle, then nuzzled her cheek affectionately. "Tried it once. Didn't like it."