Phantom Hollow Made of gold, I'll never love a

He'd screamed her name a thousand times since they last saw one another. Dusty Rose had been getting pretty sick of it, if you really wanna know. But he'd never once thought it was in vain. One of these days, he was gonna scream her name and she was gonna scream his back. And, today, it happened just like that.

Reverie came flying toward him, gold and gleaming like he remembered. Jeee-sus was he one lucky bastard — even if her ass wasn't quite as fat as it should've been.

They'd fix that, now that they were together again.

"Me," he agreed, taking her roughly in his arms. It was a very... active kind of hug. Neither of them could stay still. They both wanted to sink teeth into one another and were kindly refraining. Until they weren't, and at some point, it stopped being a hug at all. And look: he'd been fighting for his life for months, by now. He was sick of it!

He'd never get sick of fighting with his life. Wife. Whatever.

"Where're those assholes you left with?" he asked her, panting as he attempted to wrestle to the floor. "They should come watch."