"I already swore off seafood twelve hours ago," says Gwen, lightly and carefully laying a hand on his arm. Enlightenment or no, she doesn't think he'd forgive her so easily for electrocuting him just as they've finally reached salvation. But it feels nice, at least, nicer than she's willing to admit, to have someone even willing to offer an arm.

"I don't even think I want a glass of water." A beat. "Too dramatic?"