Laws of attraction

**A note of context before we begin--my dad and I regularly play-fight. In fact, if we didn't play-fight so often we'd probably not exchange many words. We plain ol' fight as well sometimes too because he's always wrong and I never am (and vice versa) but when we are not plain ol' fighting we play-fight. So please keep that in mind as you read. Onward!**

Dad: When's Sean going to come over to our house again?
Sarah: I dunno, I don't think he likes you much, so it might be a while.
Dad: What?
Sarah: No I'm totally kidding, Sean would kill me if he knew I'd blasphemed thusly. (Upon reading this, Sean proceeded to collapse into a rage blackout. [Also a total lie: Sean doesn't get mad. Except when he's been done wrong, like the time those two people at the blood bank dug around in his arm with a needle, or the time the screw stripped when he was trying to take a leg off his couch. Doozies, both of them.])
Dad: I like Sean. He's a really nice guy isn't he?
Sarah: Yes, he is.
Dad: So I can't figure out why he keeps hanging around with you.
Sarah: Neither can I, dad. Neither can I.