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“You want to have sex?”

Erica’s head snapped up and she looked at Hobbes uncomprehendingly.

“What?” she asked calmly, as if she didn’t hear him correctly.

“Do you... uh... do you wanna have sex?”

“Why... why would I want to have sex?”

“Well,” Hobbes started, growing more and more uncomfortable with Erica’s confusion. “I just thought it might help you.”

Erica nodded slowly. She winced and pressed her lips together. “Why, exactly, would I want to have sex with a terrorist on the same night that I lost my husband and my son left to live aboard the mother ship?” She looked up a Hobbes, cocking her head slightly, waiting for a reply.

“For comfort?” Hobbes blinked, as if the answer was obvious. “If you want, I can go get the Priest for you. He couldn’t have gotten that far..” he gestured towards the door at the top of the stairs.

“Oh. The Priest.”

“If... you know, you’re looking for something more gentle.”

Erica stopped nodding her head. She clasped her hands together and pressed them between her legs. Leaning forward, she started speaking very slowly, as if it were the first time Hobbes was hearing human speech.

“Why would I want to sleep with a priest on the same night my husband was killed?”

Swallowing, Hobbes searched for an answer to her question. “Um, Scotch?” he said when he couldn’t find one.

“That’ll I’ll take.”

“Right,” Hobbes nodded and stood, walking over towards his stockpile. “As long as it helps you.”

“Right,” Erica said in agreement. She took the drink from Hobbes after he offered it to her. “Anything to help out the downtrodden.” She took a swig of Scotch, downing the whole cup full in one gulp. He took her empty cup and walked back to his seat.

“Right, well then, you’ll be needing some rest,” he motioned to his bed in the corner of the basement. “I’ll start working on a plan then. For, um, the Vs...”

Erica nodded, not taking her dark eyes off of him. She collapsed into his empty bed alone and had the best sleep of her life.