There goes the rest of Lucas' handful of popcorn. Up into the air when Bash grabs him. Fly free, little kernels. He gasps louder than is necessary, thinking for a split second that horror movies are terrible and not worth it, then looking at Bash, decides that they should watch more horror movies. He starts making a list of them in his head.

Eyes wide and frightened, Lucas' mouth curls into a grin, his expression split 50/50 between terrorized and pleased. "Eleven and a quarter," he scoots a bit closer. "The sort of song you use as a ringtone for your mom."