He gives a hoarse, weak little chuckle. "Of course not. It's your house." His hand traces the side of her face a moment more, up to her hairline and then he runs his fingers through her hair. Long, blonde, and wavy, like Heather's. He's never been picky about these things, but the familiarity of it still strikes a chord. "We... we should..." He sighs, because he really isn't sure how to finish that sentence. He's not all that interested in the movie, now, though.