She grunted dramatically as he sort of whacked at her. "Ches?" Preacher settled for poking one of his feet with hers and yawning. "D'you get ta pick ya fetchified name? Sounds like a pie." A chocolate chess pie. That sounds really good right now. "Why not.... you can be Hott n' I'll be Stuf. Spelled all n' all ta fit, o' course."
She rolled over and scooted up a bit so that her head finally merged from the blanket. Her hair looked a mess, but she simply crossed her arm and laid her head on them as she looked at Chester. "If I'm not Stuf, though... what should m'fetch name be?" Preacher looked sleepy, she
felt sleepy, but she didn't particularly want to sleep.