I approach and wind my arms around his waist to pin him up against the doorway and press my hips against his as a lazy trap, sulking only mildly (lips arranged in an artful pout). "If people didn't know better, they'd think we were some abusive couple," I mumble, brushing my lips lightly against his to catch a kiss before easing back and eyeing him considerately. "Twenty-four," I say aloud.

"I don't feel it."