"Damn it," she whispers, smiling, shaking her head. She shuts off the stove, gingerly lifting up one of the pieces of french toast, which is now toasted enough that it could probably land an airplane.

"Well, looks like it's cereal or something on the way to work," she says, with a sigh. But she looks to her wife again, look getting more serious.

"I'm safe, I promise. Trust me, there is nothing out there that has even come close to slowing me down yet. But I'll still be careful."

Parts of her are reckless, but - she has someone to come home to, doesn't she?