The first archaic, no long applicable, nonsense law that Justin thinks of is the rule of thumb. As far as he's aware, it's a saying because there was once a law that men could beat their wives, but only with something that was the width of a thumb or smaller. He's all set to mention it before he realizes that coupling that with their earlier mention of sexual gratification through beatings might lend itself to Tony thinking Justin's not being honest about it. So, for a moment, he looks ready to say something, but then he promptly shuts his mouth and shrugs one shoulder, shrugging off both the idea of thumb-wide canes and whips as well as Tony's list of crimes.

"Everyone does dumb shit. Some laws that are broken are just people saying no to doing dumb shit no one would think would be illegal in the first place. Like doing an Irish jig during a full moon if you're not at least five hundred yards away from a forest or something."

Maybe, if Tony were drunk, Justin wouldn't automatically lean into his touch. But even then, he couldn't be certain. It's as natural as breathing at this point, and he's absolutely fine with it.

"I actually got such a small tent because, sometimes, when I wake up? I'm on the other side of the bed. I don't like it. I don't know why it happens. But like this, it can't happen. It's so tiny, I can't physically do it. No matter what happens, we'll be in each other's arms all night."

Mushy romantic crap? Yes. Does Justin mind it at this point? Not at all.