[She looks at him for a minute, not wanting to cave in, not wanting to act like the small, broken thing she sometimes feels she got turned into, but those open arms are there and it's him and she sniffles a little, wiping her nose with the back of her hand before she's crawling over to him, climbing into his lap and resting her head on his chest because that's her spot and he's her home.]

If you ever try to tell me you're not perfect again, I'm going to... do something. I don't know what yet, but it'll be a fair retribution for your lies.