“Are you alright?” Dorothy asks, concerned about him.“Oil me,” the Tin Man murmured.“Where do you want to be oiled,” Dorothy asks.“Oil m... mouth,” he whispers, attempting to speak.“I don’t see any oil,” the Scarecrow says, looking around for an oil can.“Me either,” Dorothy worriedly says as the Tin Man frowned.“I have an idea!” She quickly thought.“This should work better than oil anyway,” she says and leans up to the Tin Man, who is slightly taller than her, and kisses him hard on his cold,. We held each other in the hallway there for quite some time, just kissing. Maybe he was trying to get me warm, because I was quite cold, despite him having all the heaters going in the house. When it’s winter, it’s winter, you know? But it was a nice feeling, as it always is: lots of rubbing noses and light pecks. Eventually he carried me up to his room, up the stairs like last time. And he set me down on the bed. (By the way, I looked for my funky panties that he stole. No where to be seen. I. More

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