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"Of course, it’s you," Wednesday mutters, "You’re wise to be hanging high enough so I can’t reach you.”
Thing ignores her threat and drums his pinky on the heavy fabric of the awning until Wednesday lowers her nervous eyes to catch Tyler’s confident ones on the way down.
“Mistletoe…” he says with a subtle smile that reminds Wednesday why she likes him.
She could feel the lining of her cannibalistic stomach break down one small layer at a time. She’s had this feeling around Tyler before, though it had never been so strong. And while her insides churn relentlessly, she can't move.
"Well, it was good seeing you, Wednesday. I guess I’ll just…”
The feeling becomes unbearable now that it’s mixed with a tightening of her chest.
“... see you around.”
Wednesday catches his wrist before he turns away, and his brow furrows in amusement as he looks from her hand to her eyes.
“Wait, Tyler. I…”
Some of her other internal organs join in the torture brought on by Tyler’s head now tilted to the side, making his barely there grin a little more effective.
“You what?” he asks patiently.
Wednesday freezes, sure she’ll go into cardiac arrest if his lips and neck don’t straighten.
But then they do, and her heart rate accelerates from fear.
“Ok. Well, I’m already late.”
Thing drums his fingers again, and Wednesday tightens her grip on Tyler’s wrist until he’s close enough for her to hear his own quickened heartbeat.
After an intense moment of locked eyes, Wednesday says, “Viscum album. It’s a parasite. Its berries are poisonous...”
His thumb strokes her cheek, and his fingers graze her throbbing neck.
Wednesday swallows hard into his hand, and says, "...when eaten." Then she tips her chin up.
“I’ll take my chances,” he says, close enough for his warm breath to tickle her lips.
She closes her eyes and grabs onto his hair. And his arm snakes around her to hold her closer as he hungrily grasps for her lips.
She swipes her tongue along his lower lip before leaving a trail of venomous kisses along his neck. Then she affixes her mouth firmly to his neck, where her teeth gnash against his chewy flesh.
“Tyler?” Dr. Kinbott interrupts.
Tyler groans with a heavy sigh.
Then he whispers into Wednesday’s ear, “I like parasites.”
"Now?" Kinbottt chastizes.
Tyler steals another taste of her swollen lips, and smoothly breathes onto her neck, "And poison tastes sweeter than I thought it would."
One last searing glance as he's ushered into the building shocks an already agitated Wednesday into an agonizing full body itch she's dying for him to scratch.
Then Thing hops onto her shoulder and brushes the sprig of mistletoe against her cheek.
“How could you?” she asks as her cheeks tug the unwilling corners of her mouth into a smile her lips are too exhausted to resist. “He said I was sweet.”