scenes from a pandemic

Him: Oh, wow! It looks so good in the light, wow!
Me: Does it?
Him: Yeah, all the colors together like that–!
Me: One of my favorite things whenever I dye my hair is the first time I get to braid it and see how it looks like that. I always think it’s so cool. I’ll have to see how it is in braided pigtails soon.
Him: Okay, buttttttt if you’re going to do that, you have to wait until my shoulder feels better.
Me: Is that so? Well, let me know. So I can try my hair out.
Him: Sure. So I can try your hair out.

Important context. A sword lives under our bed, and has been grabbed in response to bumps in the night before.

Him, coming in after a post-sex beverage: I locked the door because I realized I hadn’t done that yet.
Me: Oh, good. No sword-time tonight.
*rather long pause*
Him: Well, if you’re lucky, I might be feeling rapier soon.

Him: Ow. What the fuck is on that that hurts?
Me: Uh… buttons, maybe?
*takes off shirt*
Him: No. Still there. Is it your collar?!
*checks*
Him: Umm… Nope. Just your fucking sternum, apparently.
Me, a person who sometimes likes getting hit in the sternum: You should probably punish it by beating it.
Him: I don’t think you’d actually want that. I *could* stick needles there and then hammer them in…
Me: I feel that is potentially a risk to my lungs.
Him: Nonsense. But that’s okay, I’ll just stick them under your toenails instead!
Me: …
Him: Oh, okay. We can do your fingers.
Me: I need those for typing my thesis.
Him: Especially right through the fingertips…
Me: I especially need those for typing my thesis.
Him: Okay. Toenails it is! And they say we don’t negotiate.

Him: Don’t move your left knee up any farther. I like my balls as they are.
Me: I like them too.
Him: Yeah. Humphrey and Bogart are pretty great.
Me: …I was going to compliment Your balls more, but then THAT happened.
Him: Aw. Who did what? Was it Humphrey or was it Bogart?

Him: When I was fucking you the other day, I must have been like this and thrust real hard at some point, because I somehow hurt my *toe*.
Me: You thrust real hard at several points.
Him: Yeah. Your vagina and your vagina.

Me: I vaguely remember telling You I was dreaming about us having sex when You came in, and You asking if it was good.
Him: Well, sure. It could have been a bad dream.
Me: I mean, it wasn’t anything particularly bad *or* good, I guess. It was pretty par.
Him: Oh, so spectacular. Got it.

Him [*singing*]: Once, I was a billion years old.
Me: I… I don’t think that’s true.
Him: Why not?
Me: That’s not how time works.
Him: What do you mean? Now, I’m a billion and one.
Me: Oh. Well, in that case.
Him: Do you think that’s how this dynamic works? That you can just question if I’m a time lord whenever you want?!

Him, a few minutes later [*singing*]: Once, I was a trillion years old.