"We're not selling Gretel!" Yes, she named that futon. It had an interesting past involving frat boys and a pool of jello, and each time he was told the story, it shifted just a little. "We'll keep her until your couch breaks. And then she'll take it's place. Be nice, she'll make you regret it."<br/><br/>She brushed crumbs off her hands and relaxed against him. Mmm, pizza was a good call. She hadn't even realized she was so hungry until Tracy shoved the steaming box under her nose. She didn't see him order it, either. Not for the first time, she fought off a wave of guilt. She was painstakingly aware of how fricken amazing he was being for her these last two weeks. There was so much she should do for him; she wanted to be so much better for him, and she just.... wasn't measuring up.<br/><br/>She took the hand of the arm draped around her and squeezed it. "Thanks, though. For the pizza, and the china fiasco--" a box of her grandmother's fine china had somehow fallen off the table and created quite the mess. "-- and this couch, and for... being here." The confliction was gone and off her face as fast as it had arrived. Her grandmother's death may have shaken up their life, but she'd be damned if she let it affect Tracy anymore than futon-lugging and pizza ordering.<br/><br/>"Really now, I don't know how I'd fill three floors with my dorm furniture alone. And when the wind creeps through this house? It's fucking scary. And the light bulbs, yeah?" With her free hand, she pointed to one high up on the wall, screwed into a lampost that looked a bit like a candle stick. "I'd be calling you over once a week to come change them, they're impossible. I totally need you here."