He's right about that, she's completely sure of it. Whatever happens, she's going to have to book a day off work or something, because she's decided right about now that when he finally gets the cast off, they're not leaving his bedroom for at least a day. Maybe more if she can swing it with a new job or maybe she'll just have to spend an entire shift thinking about it before she gets to come back to him.

That's kind of its own special torture right there.

When he glances down, she does as well, and she's not laughing, really, because she does feel bad. "How am I winning?" she asks, still trying not to laugh, but she can't not and she really wants to be able to do something for him. Her hands slip down his chest again and she pauses with them on his ribs. "Just because you're hard doesn't mean I'm not also totally dying here. New rule, no one ever wins this game."