Clara & Klaus - The Untold Story: Hypothesis

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13th August, 1999

They had the house to themselves. A year ago, they had been in the same situation, except it had been tense and awkward and neither of them had particularly enjoyed themselves.

A lot happened in a year.

Kit and Azalea had flown to Alabama that morning. Apparently, the photographer had decided the best way to celebrate his little girl's sixth birthday (and first birthday as a family) would be to return to the state where he'd found her abandoned on a park bench so the two of them could spend some quality time looking at her namesake flower. Klaus didn't entirely understand the reasoning behind it - why not just have a party here with all of her friends? - but she was Kit's daughter so he supposed it wasn't his place to judge.

He and Clara had accompanied the two to the airport to see them off before heading back to Clara's place in Salinas. Although the Harrington House was objectively nicer and offered more in the way of amenities, the two of them had found over the course of the past few months that they were both more comfortable in Clara's small apartment when they didn't need to be in the big house with Azalea. So although they had the house at their disposal if they wanted anything, they had decided not to make use of it for now.

Since the first time they had retreated to Salinas back in January, they had begun to make semi-regular visits whenever they had the chance. It allowed both of them to unwind without having to worry about being good role models for Azalea, and it seemed to help Clara in particular to remember herself when she felt like she was fading away. Klaus had become increasingly attuned to which situations were liable to cause her anxiety, paying more attention to her emotional state now that he understood more about her. Especially on the days that Kit left them in charge, they'd made it a tradition to escape for a few hours after dropping Azalea off at school.

The first few months were much like the first time, though they made some attempt not to get entirely wasted most days. They'd become increasingly comfortable with each other in multiple ways. Though they weren't always the most verbally open, they seemed to understand each other nonetheless, conveying through actions what they couldn't with words.

Having woken up on that first day somewhat entangled in each other's arms, the door had been opened for increased physical intimacy on a more regular basis. A touch here, an occasional hug, and, after a few drinks, something dangerously close to snuggling so long as they were alone in Clara's apartment.

It had taken a little while for Klaus to get used to it without the help of alcohol. It wasn't that he didn't feel comfortable with Clara - quite the opposite, in fact, he leaned into her touch like a magnet. That was the problem. As far as he was concerned, he was still a married man, and the more he craved whatever this was with Clara, the worse he believed he should feel. The fact that the guilt didn't come naturally, that he forced it upon himself out of a sense of obligation, only made things worse. It hadn't even been a year. He should not be moving on.

He wasn't moving on. Clearly, his persistent nightmares and near constant itch for alcohol were proof enough of that. His thoughts were still entirely preoccupied with Marcia.

It was when he allowed himself not to think that the problems started.

He'd spent most of April in a drunken stupor, locked up in his room so as not to influence Azalea with his behavior. The 24th had been a blur. The first anniversary of the worst day of his life. He'd knocked himself out before ten in the morning and hadn't left his room once the entire day.

The 26th had offered him no such luxury. Kit had once again left the state, and he and Clara were once again responsible for Azalea's well-being. This time, when they'd dropped her off at school, it was Klaus's turn to have a panic attack.

The vodka they bought on the way back to Clara's was significantly cheaper than the tequila from the first day, but they'd managed to secure enough of it to calm his nerves and then some. After seven shots, he stopped thinking. After eleven, he suddenly found himself with his face buried in Clara's neck and her legs wrapped around his waist.

Looking back on it now, he couldn't even remember the sex itself so much as he remembered waking up several hours later with a pounding head and no clothes on, Clara's equally naked body pressed flush against his chest. He'd gone through a wide range of emotions in a few very short seconds as he processed the situation - alarm, panic, guilt, self-loathing.

But not regret.

As much as he wanted to regret having sex with Clara - only a year and two days after his wife's death - he couldn't. He felt bad, sure. He told himself it would never happen again. He told himself to avoid her, to avoid drinking around her, to never recreate the circumstances that had led to this mistake, but even as he thought those things to himself, he knew he wouldn't follow through. Because it hadn't felt like a mistake.

In fact, once the headache had subsided and he'd had a few hours to come to terms with his thoughts, he realized that physically, he felt good. Better than he had in a long while. And beneath the layers of self-castigation and inner turmoil, though he refused to admit it, he kind of wished he did remember what it had felt like in the moment because no matter how wrong it seemed to him on the surface, a little part of him had wanted it for a longer time than he wished to acknowledge.

So when the end of May rolled around and Kit once again packed his bags and left them in charge, it had only taken half a bottle of cheap rum before the two of them found themselves entangled in the psychic's sheets once more.

The next time it happened, they were sober.

By the time August arrived, it had become a normal part of their relationship, more often than not punctuating their visits to her apartment. Such visits weren't necessarily frequent, but they were becoming more so as Kit became more and more comfortable with leaving home for longer periods of time.

So now that it was just the two of them for the next few days, with no responsibilities, it seemed only natural to crash at Clara's place. At this point, it was more like their place - they both sought refuge within its walls, and they were always together when they did. The current scene felt almost normal as Klaus stood barefoot in the tiny, neglected kitchen area and reached into the bag of supplies they'd brought back from Kit's house. A small pot of rice sat atop one of the two burners while a few slivers of chicken sizzled in a cast-iron pan on the other. It wasn't much, but neither of them needed much, and it was at least better than Clara's cooking.

He glanced up at said woman as he waited for their dinner to cook, spinning a spatula absentmindedly in his hand. A thought occurred to him, and he smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Remember that time you told me you'd make sure I moved out of Kit's house as soon as possible? How long's it been now? A year?"

The panic attacks were definitely getting better now.

For one ting, they weren't as often as they used to be. The last time Clara had had an actual one was when the dreaded calendar had gone up. With everything going by so fast, it had been a necessary evil. Azalea was not only flourishing like her namesake in school but also at extra curriculars. The girl had taken to ballet like a fish to water and had also expressed some interest in the Junior Gardner's Club. Kit's schedule had only gotten more hectic since January and as a result, Klaus and Clara were left to organize the pick ups, drop offs, play dates, extra classes and weekend activities that were the part and parcel of raising a nearly six year old. Somewhere in March it had become necessary for them to get a giant whiteboard calendar in the kitchen to keep track of all of Azalea and Kit's activities and divide up chores. Something about seeing her own name used for the intent purpose of looking after someone else had made her feel dizzy. Luckily, Klaus had been nearby and as always, had managed to steer her away before she completely lost it.

Which - she supposed - was the other reason the panic attacks had lessened to the degree they had. Though Clara didn't like admitting it, she now went about her day safe in the knowledge that Klaus was nearby even if Azalea's father was not. Even on days when Klaus didn't leave his room much or wasn't of any actual help, his presence seemed to do the job. They both had their demons after all, and he deserved the right to wallow in his as much as she deserved the right to succumb to hers every once in a while. So with that understanding, the psychic usually left him be on those days. Until that is she actually needed him to do things.

And those days were becoming more and more frequent as Kit grew complacent in the knowledge that there were two perfectly capable people looking after his child in his absence. Yet Clara now no longer felt the need to have it out with the photographer every time he packed his stupid bag for a trip. Part of that was due to the sheer exhaustion that uninvited motherhood had left her with. Looking after Azalea was no joke and it left her more tired than anything she had ever devoted her life to. Arguably, Clara had never devoted her life as completely to anything as she had to being Azalea's primary caregiver but most days, the witch barely made it to her own bed before falling asleep. In fact, many a nights she had simply passed out while sitting in an armchair or curled up on the sofa in front of an episode of Friends after Azalea had gone to bed.

And part of it was also because she was secretly starting to look forwards to Kit's excursions away from home. The Seer didn't know exactly what his absence afforded her, unable to admit even to herself that she liked the close familiarity developing with the photographer's friend. There was no doubt in her mind that they were on a dangerous path. What responsible parent type figure made sure to arrange their child's classes and clubs for eight hours straight so they could go to Salinas and drink cheap liqueur and fall asleep for a few hours? Clara and Kluas type apparently.

And still, those moments spent with the Englishmen were the most Clara could remember being Clara in a long time. The thin veneer of inebriation gave her the recuse to say things she never would at Harrington House, it lowered inhibitions just so that curling up against his warm body felt a justified necessity than a luxury she had missed for so long and finally, in April, it acted as the catalyst that bought them together in a way they'd been heading towards for a while now. Clara had seen it coming, but not through her visions. Some things didn't require supernatural powers. And though she knew he had been blind drunk at the time, she had carefully hid the fact that she had not been quite as far gone. If she had been, she would have never known about Marcia...

That was the name that had slipped from his tongue the first time in a mixture of pleasure and anguish all at once, making Clara realize that once again, she was going down the slippery slope she had promised herself she never would. The witch had told herself this would never happen again, that she could not afford to become the second woman in yet another English Fuckboy's life, and yet it had happened again because at the end of the day, she was human. Loath as she was to admit it, she was human and she felt more alive in those brief moments than she did the rest of her days.

He didn't say her name again, but then again they had slowly phased out the practice of fornicating while drunk. Now they were very close to something Clara never thought she would find herself a part of: a legitimate relationship. One where they shared responsibilities and looked out for each other and had occasional, semi amazing sex. And Clara was getting worryingly comfortable with it all. As an objective observer who knew the future, she knew she was wrong. But as a person who was tired all the time, desperately in love with a child she never wanted and doing her best to be a good role model, she simply wanted a few moments of someone appreciating all of her for who she was. And though Klaus didn't always say things out loud, he made her feel that way. That feeling was what held her back, and would do so for however long it took.

When Kit and Azalea had left for Alabama to celebrate the child's birthday (an idea Clara was fiercely against but found herself having no say in because fuck Kit and his pretentious bullshit), the two had naturally escaped to Salinas once more. The apartment was a far cry from the dirty, ignored studio it had been in January. Not only did it see regular cleaning now on their visits (and a particularly fun one had been when they'd both conjured up buckets of soapy eater and ended up splashing each other more than the walls and floors) but it also boasted a fresh coat of paint and small repairs. The rent was no issue as the credit card she now had at her disposal more than covered six months of payments in a row, both satisfying her landlord and sparking rumors that she'd "snagged one o' them millionaires down in LA". The fact that her locale was a place that considered something short of three grand a perk of "snagging a millionaire" made Clara appreciate them all the more.

In addition to being clean and livable, the flat was also now well stocked. Barring the rations they'd nicked from Harrington House earlier, the bathrooms now had toothpaste, shampoos and soups as well as a spare shaving kit for Klaus and Clara's narrow single bed had been enlarged to almost twice its size to accommodate the added company it hosted on their visits. The witch breathed deeply through her nose from where she sat on the low coffee table opposite the tiny kitchen. The surface served as a place for her crystal ball in readings and a seat/table on days like today. It would serve as their dinner table later since the witch had no actual dining table or chairs.

"That smells good," she replied to his teasing tone. He was right, it had been a year. And now, well, she was honest enough to admit she couldn't have navigated the year with half as much grace (considering she had shown any amount of grace a all) without his help.

And it was still wrong.

"I'll eventually kick you out,' she admitted lazily, stretching out her legs in front of her, hovering the short limbs just above the carpet. Like him, the witch too was barefoot but unlike him, she was rocking her usual style. Bright pink streaks ran through her short dark hair and the frayed t shirt tied into a knot at her side rested atop bright purple leggings covering her from the waist down. A series of silver bangles with different charms clinked on her left wrist while a single thin pink fingerless glove adorned her right palm. Almost in rebellion, Clara had dressed for the trip in a manner meant to scandalous Sarah Staudt and the rest of the moms at the PTA.

"Depends on when Kit or I learn to cook."

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Klaus raised an eyebrow at her first comment, then smiled somewhat smugly at her admission.

"So, never," he summed up as he turned his attention back to the pan. "Good to know I have job security."

It really was good to know, because honestly he didn't know what he would do if they ever did kick him out. He had no plans lined up - no home, no job, just a few meager savings from his old life that he'd been trying not to touch unless he absolutely needed to.

The thought finally occurred to him that he really ought to have planned better. With everything that had happened in the past year, he'd simply grown comfortable living off of Kit. He hadn't even thought about the future.

Wait.

Shit.

Could he even live here if Kit kicked him out? Could he get a house without a Visa? Could he get a Visa without a job? Hadn't it been his plan upon his initial arrival to find an employer to sponsor his residency?

It hadn't been a very good or detailed plan. He hadn't been in a great headspace at the time. But his connections at the Ministry had informed him before he left that if he didn't have family in the States, he'd need to find a job in order to secure a Green Card, and that the Visa waiver was only good for up to 90 days.

Well, it had certainly been longer than 90 days.

He hadn't been paying attention to the deadline. Three months had seemed like such a long time when he'd first arrived, so he'd assumed it wouldn't be an issue. He had been planning to find something within the first month. But somehow, everything with Azalea had completely derailed his plans, and until now, he'd simply been so busy that it must have slipped his mind. It wasn't like anyone had shown up on their doorstep threatening to deport him.

But if they did, he would not have any good excuses.

He stood frozen for a moment as all of this suddenly dawned on him. He let out a slow breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. How had he not thought about this earlier?

Oh, right. Because when he wasn't busy as a stand-in parent, he was either drunk or overwhelmed by a number of other thoughts. And it really hadn't occurred to him to wonder about his next steps because Kit just acted like he was a permanent part of the household. He'd never had a reason to worry about providing for himself when he'd grown so used to living comfortably off of the millionaire's generosity. Somewhere around the second month, he'd simply started taking it all for granted.

Whoops.

He lowered his spatula and bit his lip, looking at Clara contemplatively as he ran through his options in his head. After a long moment, he finally spoke.

"I...think I'm going to have to get a job."

The change in atmosphere was sudden, but he couldn't just brush the issue aside for later. He'd already been living here illegally for about nine months and he hadn't even realized it until now. He almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of the situation, but he figured that probably wasn't the appropriate response. If he did get caught, the consequences would most likely be serious. He really couldn't believe he'd just forgotten all about it.

"Good to know I have job security."

The psychic parted her lips to make her usual cautionary snide remark, but then closed them just as quickly. She knew when she was beat, and he knew she would never learn to cook. Clara was just about to mumble admit that she'd get him next round when an image flashed behind her eyelids, forcing her to close her eyes. The vision was fleeting but it left a small, smug grin of her own on her pixie-like face.

Who knew it would be Kit Harrington to the rescue?

But before she could explain the joke to him, it melted on her tongue. There was now a genuine air of concern about Klaus, one that could potentially endanger the yummy dinner they were about to partake in.

"Well, I'm looking for a part time nanny," she offered jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood. "It doesn't pay anything but the employer's a right douche so we can steal from his substantial liquor cabinet." Of course there was no need to point out that it was the same job Klaus already did. Though why he was suddenly thinking of a career was beyond her. He made himself plenty useful around the house, everyone was well aware of that. Unless he wanted to be paid which would be pretty shitty on his part, since he had free board and food.

Clara also knew that if he went to Kit with the same request, the photographer wouldn't even blink before handing over large sums of money to his friend. He'd already given them both two credit cards apiece for "emergencies". Having grown up a firm deadbeat poor, Clara didn't know of any emergencies that would require two limitless credit cards but she kept them regardless if only to make Kit happy. She wondered if Klaus did the same.

"Why the sudden career aspirations though?" she asked, now more serious because this was obviously bothering him. Retracting her legs back to herself, the Seer hugged her limbs, curled up on the coffee table, her dark gaze on the man in front of her. "The kiddo doesn't put enough work on your plate because she leaves me pretty fucking exhausted?"

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Clara's quip might have normally made him chuckle, but he was a wee bit preoccupied by thoughts of deportation and it didn't quite land. He scratched his forehead, making a slightly pained face as he tried to convey how serious he was.

"Yeah, somehow I don't think that's going to work."

She seemed to catch on. He sighed, unsure exactly how best to phrase his concerns.

"Well, it's not that I necessarily want to get a job. In fact, I don't even really know what I'm qualified for besides flipping burgers at McDonald's, unless you know of any place besides the ministry that'll take a degree in magical law enforcement..." he trailed off, mind racing as he tried to think of something, anything, that he might be able to do for a living. Professional workers were much more likely to be granted Green Cards, but the only thing he knew how to do was auror work, and he didn't want to do that. He'd retired for a reason.

"It's just that...well, if I don't have an employer, I might get kicked out of, um...America."

He tried for a sheepish grin but the panic in his eyes betrayed him and he grimaced instead. He waited, bracing himself for whatever reaction his words might cause. He knew he was stupid; he didn't really need her to tell him that, but he kind of suspected she might. Hopefully she'd keep the berating short and sweet so they could move on to addressing the very large and very real dilemma at hand.

"Kicked... out of America?" The Seer looked at him as if he was speaking in another language. Why would anyone be kicked out of the good ole U S of A? A moment later, a short burst of laughter escaped the woman. He was clearly joking. Clara may have never known the intricacies of the immigration system but she knew for sure America didn't just up and kick people out.

Did they?

"Oh wait, you aren't kidding?" the witch asked, her laughter dying down when Klaus obviously did not join in with that soft, strange chuckle of his. "I really don't think that's a big deal though, I mean you haven't really done anything wrong while you've been here. Quite the opposite." And she knew for a fact that he would continue to be here for years to come, not that she could bring that into the equation to reassure him. Some things were better left a mystery.

"But if you really want a job, flipping burgers won't do it. Why not just talk to Kit, I'm sure he'll figure out a way for you to stay here properly. Or his lawyer will." Clara was the first to admit she didn't understand the law as rich people did. Her own experience with legality had been mostly centered around selling stuff on the streets without the cops finding out, and then giving that same stuff up for free when they did.

But Kit spoke of things like tax deduction and investment portfolios, things that went way over her head. She was certain though that in all those fancy words, he could find a solution to Klaus' problems. After all, the Englishman was just as valuable to Kit and Azalea as he was to her.

"Of course, that might require Kit actually staying in Carmel for a minute and a half, but I'm sure we'll get to that point before Azalea leaves for college." And there it was, the bitterness Clara tried so hard to contain about her best friend's pseudo responsible attitude towards parenting. As much as she tried to ignore it, as much as she tried to enjoy Klaus's company in the photographer's absence, the quiet judgment was always there, the steady disappointment that Kit was basically outsourcing his job as a parent to the two of them.

"Is the food done?" the psychic questioned, abruptly getting up and off the coffee table to walk over to the kitchen as if her presence would actually help. "I'm hungry, and you need to eat too."

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"I really don't think that's a big deal though, I mean you haven't really done anything wrong while you've been here. Quite the opposite."

"Well, aside from the fact that illegal immigration is technically a crime. You know, given that it's 'illegal' and all," Klaus commented dryly, a bit frustrated that Clara didn't seem to get it. "And if there's even the slightest chance that I could be shipped back to the UK, I'd really rather avoid it."

Klaus sighed. He supposed he should talk to Kit - after all, the man had somehow managed to expedite the adoption process for Azalea despite his questionable parenting skills and Azalea's mysterious background, simply because he had wanted it badly enough. Money really could get you almost anything. His lawyers were probably exceptional.

Klaus's brow furrowed as he picked up on Clara's tone, the passive-aggressive statement drawing his attention. "Yes, that could present a problem. If his own daughter can't keep him in Carmel, who knows what will?"

Truth be told, he agreed wholeheartedly with Clara's frustration, though they only ever really talked about it in moments like these when Kit wasn't around to hear them. It briefly occurred to him that expressing their feelings behind his back probably wouldn't do anything to change his behaviour, but the other option would be confronting him, and that wasn't really Klaus's style. Besides, it felt kind of good to have something to complain about every now and then.

Clara's next question jerked Klaus out of his thoughts as he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He immediately returned his attention to the chicken browning in the pan, giving it an experimental toss.

"Ah, yes, I think so. Could you pass me some plates?"

"Yes, that could present a problem. If his own daughter can't keep him in Carmel, who knows what will?"

Posh people were so formal, the psychic mused as she joined Klaus in the small kitchen. Present a problem, indeed. She had never been a present a problem kind of girl herself. Where she came from, it was usually just fucked up. Not that he didn't have a point. or perhaps she did.

"Do you think he'd stick around more if he had less people to rely on?" the witch really hadn't wanted to talk about this tonight. And never had she envisioned - with or without her gift - the night going any other way but towards a nice dinner and then some casual sex. Yet here she was, bringing up something she didn't really want an answer to.

Perhaps he would lie though, perhaps he would go on about personal responsibility and all that other stuff. And she could go on fooling herself for a few more months, maybe a year. It was odd to realize her happiness was on a clock, running parallel to the future happiness of the child she loved so much. But life was what it was, and right now it was forcing out some tough questions.

"Right now he's still busy playing Mr. Casanova because he knows we're home picking up the slack." The words didn't need saying it out laud here yet she was again, saying them. The mood was well and truly presenting a problem right now.

Quietly, the young woman handed over plates, followed by cutlery, almost focusing too hard on the task so she wouldn't have to listen to any truth bombs her companion might wish to drop on her musings. Despite bringing up the subject herself, Clara wanted him to dismiss it with almost insulting casualness.

Now if only the man would oblige and put her fears to rest.

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Klaus sighed as he considered Clara's solution. It wasn't a revolutionary idea - in fact, it was probably one of the most obvious lines of thought. Kit left because he felt like he could. He felt like he could because everything ran smoothly without him. If he could no longer trust that to happen, he may be forced to stay. However, that would mean they'd have to do one of two things, neither of which Klaus particularly wanted to do: either make themselves unreliable (which was off the table for Azalea's sake), or make themselves unavailable (which would mean moving out).

Plus, he could think of plenty of reasons why neither of those plans would be airtight.

"Maybe," he answered honestly. He nodded at her reasoning, accepting the plates and distributing the contents of the pan onto each of them. "But if he really wanted to, he could hire a nanny. I mean, our presence makes it more convenient for him to leave, granted, but I don't think there's anything that would make it impossible.

"And besides," he looked at Clara now. "He convinced you once to drop everything and move to Carmel for him, even when it wasn't convenient. You don't think he'll just find us wherever we are and drag us back when he needs us? It's not like you're going to say no to Azalea."

He was half-joking, but he knew how completely Clara had fallen head-over-heels for the little girl she was now practically raising. He couldn't imagine she'd abandon her for anything in the world. Even if it might ultimately be for the greater good.

No, he couldn't see Clara ever moving out now that she'd gotten attached. Him, on the other hand...well, he was more expendable. If anyone were to leave, it would have to be him.

He didn't want to. Klaus quite appreciated the life Kit provided him, selfish though that may be. He liked Azalea too, loved her even, but not as much as Clara did. He knew where they stood. If they ever did decide that in order for Kit to stay, one of them had to go, Klaus was the obvious choice. And really, it had seemed somewhat inevitable from the start. He'd never meant to stay forever.

But a little while longer might not hurt. It wasn't like they knew for sure that plan would work, anyway. For all he knew, Kit would just continue his ways and then Clara would be left to pick up the slack by herself and things would be worse off for everyone.

He scooped some rice onto each plate, then handed Clara hers.

"I think no matter what we do, we'll have to at least talk to him about it first," Klaus admitted, loathe as he was to actually have that conversation.

Despite the continual smell of warm food permeating the kitchen, Clara had never been less hungry. Still the psychic quietly took her plate from her companion as she listened to him lay out his own honest if unsure opinions. Kit would never hire a nanny, she at least knew that much about the photographer. Of course, Clara didn't know how she knew. Maybe he had grown up with nannies and had a bad experience. Or had a really good one which ended up making him less fond of his parents and he didn't want that for his little girl. Whatever the case, he was not the babysitter hiring type.

He was more the convince people living with you to co parent by presenting a cute helpless child to them type.

"And besides," he looked at Clara now. "He convinced you once to drop everything and move to Carmel for him, even when it wasn't convenient. You don't think he'll just find us wherever we are and drag us back when he needs us? It's not like you're going to say no to Azalea."

The accusation stung whether he meant it to or not. Before now, they had just swept the whole matter of her bending to Kit's will in co parenting Azalea under a nice, plush rug. The hurt showed in her dark eyes a little as she dropped her gaze to the kitchen counter. They both had damage and they hardly ever talked about it. His was whatever had happened back in England and hers was... Always ending up by Kit's side no matter how little it made sense.

If Klaus had noticed that despite her fierce independence and tenacity, she somehow always ended up with the Harrington fuck boy, he had not made a mention of it. Not until now, and even now in lieu of the child and not Kit directly. But they had both stumbled on to the most painful truth of the night.

Yes, she would never leave Azalea.

And more importantly, she couldn't leave Kit... Not even if she wanted to. The witch slumped helplessly to the floor, depositing her plate on the low coffee table she had been sitting on a few minutes earlier.

How could she tell him that she physically could not leave the Californian? That her visions turned blank the moment she tried to picture a future without him? Would he even understand or just take it as weakness from her? Yet another one to add to the list?

"Talking to him it is," she admitted miserably, reaching for her plate while there was still some steam rising from it. Then, reaching out, she poked him defeatedly on the shoulder, adding an equally desperate "Not it."

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