Tickle wars were serious business. Which was why, momentarily, his ponytail was forgotten entirely and he was going to re-double his efforts to tickle her into consciousness.

It was possibly sitting around a seven, on that one-to-ten scale of his.

"You gotta have some kisses hidin' somewhere," he decided, around squirms and chuckles and every sort of funny face that people were likely to make when they were being relentlessly tickled by a sleepyhead. "Check the back room or somethin'!"

Back rooms, Reno was pretty certain, were awesome for kisses.