"No ghosts," Molly says with a shake of her head, smiling at the sensation of his hands on her waist as she faces him. "At least, not that I've seen." She's probably the closest they have to one, a living dead girl, but that's a dark and unnecessary line of thought for a time like this. Eventually, she'd tell him, if he asked, the fact of her being dead back home not something she's especially forthcoming about but not something she tries to hide, either. Tonight, though, isn't about that. Tonight, she just wants to feel fucking good for a little while, and this is already a good start.

Her arms lift to drape over his shoulders, and she thinks again that this was the best idea she's had in a long time. "So if that's your dealbreaker, I think we're in good shape."