"Thank the chapstick," he smiles after she pokes his mouth, a private joke of their since she'd bought him chapstick back in high school.

He's just had another sip of the vodka nestled between his thighs and puts the bottle down clumsily on the coffee table when Rachel's arms encircle his neck like a scarf, her face suddenly very close.

"I dunno..." He shrugs at her. "I'd never call you a whore."