She imagines leaning over, sliding her hand up Amy's thigh, stopping all conversation. This all seems like some bad cliche.
"You don't have to tell me. Let's call it a night, okay?"
So she nods; the only thing she can do. They walk into the deserted bullpen and gather their coats. She shuts the light in Josh's office, bumping into Amy when turning back. She shivers as breath grazes her cheek. Then Amy's hand rises up; runs through her hair.
"I didn't want an answer."
"No," she breathes, as their lips brush. And she deepens the kiss; swallows the lie.
[end]