Despite telling him to shut up before, Susan can't say she minds much. It's intoxicating, being told things like that, being held and kissed and neded this way. Panting, she tilts her head to invite more kisses, her toes curling inside her shoes, her body tightening around him.

"I love thee," she moans, in answer, and laughs shakily, breathless, antennae quivering. It doesn't occur to her, won't until later, the full weight of what she's just said. If you love me, then love me.