"Oh, I'm golden, honey," he insists, cocky and overconfident as ever. Whether or not it lasts until they reach the barn remains to be seen. She'll most likely look even more smug by then.

When she gets to her feet, his grasp on her hands lingers, and for a second they look as if they were caught in a dance, before he lets her fingers slip from his palms.

At her statement, he tilts his head, biting his lower lip in a sharp grin. She's saying these things on purpose. He's sure of it.

"My lower half is...just fine."