[At this point, she'll take the weak laughter. It was better than the emo cloud and threat of her room turning into a freezer.]

[When he pulls away, she tries to discreetly rub at her arms. Not much, but just enough to get a bit of warmth back in them. She then reaches over for the nearly-forgotten plate of fruit. Popping another piece into her mouth.]

Well, it's not exactly riding the wind and sunsets, but I guess it'll do for now.

Maybe we should stop planning fake dates. I'm starting to think we're cursed.

[Weak laughter, meet weak attempt at humor. And a plate of fruit squares.]