Regrettably, Amara’s destructive and gratifying and hilarious assault on the C.O.V. had to be postponed for the moment.<br/><br/><i>Regrettably?! Seriously, Old Man?! Y’know, word to the wise. Or unwise, as the case appears to be here. Pretty sure Amara ain’t gonna be gettin’ nekkid for you anytime soon. Sayin’. . . .</i><br/><br/>Fair point. For the time being, Amara was frozen in mid-air, having just leapt off of a building’s ledge and tossed a<i>Ghast Call </i>grenade at a cluster of fucks, er, cluster of enemies. The Siren’s left hand wielded her<i>Unkempt Harold </i>legendary pistol. She’d also managed to pull the trigger a few times, though the rounds were also immobilized on the screen.<br/><br/>Controller placed on the side table, Paul removed his seemingly-stuck-to-the-sofa-body from the couch and approached her. The multitude of colors from his paused game danced across her skin. Right then, Charlette reminded him of a neon sign.<br/><br/><i>A freaking buck naked neon sign, I might add, Old Man!</i><br/><br/>Well, there was that, too.<br/><br/>By now, he shoulda realized that a Charlette in the buff would soon translate to a Paul in the buff, as well. As luck would have it, her glorious boobs pressed into him, though his t-shirt prevented any skin-on-skin sensation. Not to be denied, her hands deftly removed his t-shirt. Mmm, much better, he thought.<br/><br/>Just as he was relishing the feeling of her breasts against him, her hands deftly began the removal of his pants, too. The sound of an unzipping zipper filled the air, followed by the garment plopping to the floor.<br/><br/><i>Hmm, damn good timing, Old Man. That, uh, flagpole of yours is, um, ready for a flag. BaHa!</i><br/><br/>“Come on, Paul, let's go play...wanna take me to your room?" she seductively inquired.<br/><br/>“Uh, no, I don’t wanna take you to my room, Charlette,” he declared. As if to prove his point, Paul gathered her up in his arms as if they were newlyweds and proceeded to her room. “I thought we’d go to yours and abuse your mattress for a change,” he whispered. A kiss found her lips and found them again. And then lingered.<br/><br/><i>Old Man? You listening this time? Do not, and I repeat, do not forget that helmet for that soldier. . . .</i>