[the string of curses gets her to grin - she's gotten pretty good at just substituting them in her head for the actual words. she thinks that it's going to be wild to hear him actually get to swear, in the future, and something in her warms at the thought.

it warms further at sweetheart, and there's a little burst of affection and love that she feels, looking at him smile at her. kisses and pet names, her favorite...]

That cult's not going to know what hit 'em. Smear on the ground when I'm finished. [she says, with a half-grin. and then - after easing them down into the couch a little further, she asks:]

... What about you, then? What sort of future are you hoping for?