"I do," she says into his hair, nodding once before stepping back and removing the jacket.

(She pushes down the realization that she won't need the whistle to guard against demon bunnies on her morning runs for much longer; she and Bill will be leaving the bar soon enough so he can get back to work.)

Reclaiming a seat on the couch, she reaches for the smaller box -- the one she wrapped a couple of days ago.