The mice had returned to their vigil at the door, having deduced that I wasn’t going to kiss anyone immediately. Occasional cries of "Hail!" broke the silence, muted enough to be reduced to the level of background noise. "Oh thank god," Verity mumbled, since it was hard to have a proper brood without a box of crab rangoons and a whole carton of lo mein to help eat your feelings with. She opened the door with a tired smile, ready to relieve the nice delivery girl of her bag of deliciousness.

Only to see Liam standing in her doorway with said bag of deliciousness. The room erupted into cheers. Quite literally: with mice crammed into every cushion and hidden under every piece of furniture, it sounded like the apartment had suddenly been possessed by the spirit of Super Bowl Sunday. "...Fuck."

General cheering greeted her profanity, along with a few ecstatic mentions of the Feast of Washing Out Mouths With Soap.