"To hear you talk, it's like I'm already terminally ill."
"Hey, hey! Don't say things like that!" Jensen Morrison chided, gently tapping Ivy Holden on the forehead.
After dinner, the two of them took the elevator upstairs together. Phoebe Buck had already come over and tidied up the apartment. Ivy Holden entered, changed her shoes, and threw herself onto the sofa, letting her mind go blank as she zoned out.
Jensen Morrison had gone back to his own place for a quick shower and a change of clothes before coming over, holding a plate of sliced watermelon.
"Why didn't you knock again?" Ivy Holden shrank into a corner of the sofa, making a little room for him.
Jensen Morrison sat down next to her. "If I knocked, wouldn't I be troubling you to get up and open the door? I'm saving you the trouble, and you're still not happy about it?"
"I guess that makes sense." Ivy Holden glanced at the watermelon, wanting a piece but not wanting to move.
