Michael rose his arms in a halfhearted defense against the playful punch, laughing softly. "Samantha Petrovski, actually...and I don't think it was the fuzzy pink sweater you were interested in. More like what was inside. Barely, anyway." he chuckled. "Probably the only time in my life I've been afraid angora might tear under the strain of containing something."

When they reached the soda machine, Michael fed in a few bills, dispensing a few cans, including LJ's Dr. Pepper. When he straightened, he took a can of Coke and handed it to Lincoln.

"Give it to her when we get back. Something tells me she'll appreciate the gesture." he replied, shrugging with a lopsided smile. "If you want to try and keep her around, couldn't hurt, right?" He paused, playfully shoving the can against Lincoln's chest. "Least it'll keep your head on straight, longer she stays."