Neville brushed strands of damp hair from Hannah's forehead, pulling a stray one out of her mouth, as she gazed back at him, her eyes warm, her faced flushed. After a moment she chuckled a little.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"I just realized that you always get what you want," Hannah said, struggling to lean up on her elbow. She grinned. "We've done nothing but argue about your trip since dinner. Then when it's time for bed, I put on my ugliest pajamas, the ones that say: 'I'm angry with you wizard – give up hope.' But somehow you're sweet and apologetic. You tell me you've been unfair, and you'll agree to what I want, because it's more important to me." The corners of her mouth tilted down in a counterfeit sad face.
"Then I feel like a selfish hag for being so stubborn, so I have to agree to your plans. Not only do I decide to go with your idea, but I think you're wonderful for letting me." She gestured at the tangle of pajamas laying on the floor next to the bed. "Then the next thing I know you're unbuttoning the ugly pajama top and pulling the ugly bottoms down and I'm glad as hell."
Neville reached over and grabbed the maligned garments. "These are ugly?"
He was fond of those pajamas. They gapped a bit between the second and third button, and when Hannah bent down, they pulled a little across her bum. If she stepped in front of a lamp, he could see right through them.
"I don't think these achieve the effect that you think they do," Neville said, as he tossed the pajamas back on to the floor.
"You won, but I didn't lose, yet we still made up..." she continued, ignoring him and the pajamas, ugly or not.
"You could change your mind even now, Hannah. I wasn't playing games. I meant it when I said you could decide."
She kissed him at the base of his throat. "I know Love -- that's why it works for you."