"I like it," he said.
"Like what?"
"That you want more." This is right after I've declared that I'm "done for the night, seriously this time," and then taken another hit a few minutes later anyway.
I giggle again, because of course I want more.
"But why do you like it?"
"Because you're like me."
I stop and smile through my bangs again. This is a theme.
"Like you?"
He stops too, hands in his pockets, even stare.
"Insatiable."