I nuzzle into Near's neck, brushing my lips against his throat. "I love you," I whisper in Greek.

I turn to Matt and say very solemnly, "I'm not sure the kitchens of all the pasteries in the world could handle L-munchies." And then I giggle.

To Near, I say, "There's a lot of hysterical evidence of great thoughts coming from being wasted." I would have aimed at serious, but I was already giggling.

"God, it's been years." I laugh, resting my cheek on Near's shoulder. "Would you believe I'm snuggly and silly when stoned?" I laugh again.