Holly Winslow: "..."
She lightly tapped the back of his hand with her pen, her eyes widening slightly. "Hey, I'm your wife, you know."
Mortimer Quincy chuckled, amused. He reached out and ruffled her hair. "That's right. You're my wife."
He paused for a moment, then added, "Wifey, want to make a bet?"
Holly Winslow knew exactly what he was going to bet on. Taking advantage of her status as his "wife," she decided to strike first. "I say the line we're supposed to translate is the third one."
Mortimer Quincy raised an eyebrow, unable to hide the grin playing on his lips. "All right. I'll take the first line."
"Okay. And the terms of the bet are: if you guess right, I'll kiss you. And if I guess right... you'll kiss me."
"..."
Mortimer was clearly trying to take advantage of her. Holly Winslow shot him an irritated glare and mouthed, "You're shameless."
Mortimer's shoulders shook with laughter. He whispered, "Wifey already made her pick, so the bet is on."
