His Docile Mafia Princess
My wife just keeps giggling at some parts like we’re watching Mickey Mouse instead of something titled 'Death Hour III: Hell’s Return.
“What?” she asks, her gaze slowly shifting from the screen to me.
“Are you truly not scared, Sasha?”
She lifts an eyebrow, confusion morphing in her gaze. “Do you want me to be?”
“No,” I lie. “I'm just concerned about you, this movie is very graphic, a little poorly executed but graphic nonetheless.”
“It's just a movie,” she shrugs. “I can't be scared of something that isn't real, I'm not four.”
“Are you sure,” I try again, this time with the tone of a concerned husband who’s definitely here to protect her.
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