“There are poses?” she giggled. “Are you going to try to be all sexy? Are you going to do Blue Steel? I want pictures of /you/, not some idealised pretense, you dork.” She leaned over to kiss his pout.
“Yeah — you know like the fake kissing and hands on the hips stuff?” He rolled over onto his stomach, before grinning against her lips and laughing. “Me? All awkwardness and angles?”
“Pffffft.” That was all the response either of those remarks deserved, and all they got. Then she raised an eyebrow. “Not content with making me messy, you’re going to get it all over the sheets too?” She poked him again and squirmed out of the bed. “And I’m all over salt. Bath?”