Let's make tonight the weekend, I don't wanna wait
Amusement lingers on her, he knows it, but he doesn't want her gasping, however mock, because he's failing her buzzfeed pop quiz. He can feel the growing fumble as it rolls out of him, as unelegant as a belch and just as impossible to grab it and put it back once it's out. He grimaces as she manuevers towards him in utter shock and put on hurt. "No, no, no. See, I picked steak because that's why you'd go to a fancy restaurant right, so you're being used on the main meal. The BEST meal. One I couldn't eat without you...at least not without getting kicked out."
If she expects him to keep a straight face when she says 'shove' and 'meat' in a sentence like that then she's asking for the impossible. His serious debate face falters, an attempt at keeping it in puffing up his cheeks for a moment, features lifting from a terrified frown to lit surprise. It sputters free a second later, his laugh loud and cutting, a palm slapping the counter for extra effect.
"Wait a damn minute," he says on an inhale of breath he's struggling to keep from devolving into a further fit. "If you're the fork, doesn't that make me the meat? Who's the meat? Not the knife. Is this four now?" Which, three had been more than enough so he raises a hand and waves away the question, deciding he really doesn't want her answer.
With her so closeby now, the changeup into actual wonder allows him to step into the offended role. "I'm sorry, did you just ask if I'm a criminal? This is feeling like slander!" A wide, wicked grin creeps out just before he reaches out to abruptly hook her hip-hung arm with him. He hauls her towards him, tipping her back to his chest as he gravely laughs. "I'm glad to know you have very strict ice cream standards." His expression dances with delight at the possibility of pushing that button though. "Tell me, why does using a fork mean I chew the forkful?" He shakes his head. "The fork helps you get it faster when its super frozen. You know how you sometimes bend a spoon trying to scoop it? Forks carve it."
If she expects him to keep a straight face when she says 'shove' and 'meat' in a sentence like that then she's asking for the impossible. His serious debate face falters, an attempt at keeping it in puffing up his cheeks for a moment, features lifting from a terrified frown to lit surprise. It sputters free a second later, his laugh loud and cutting, a palm slapping the counter for extra effect.
"Wait a damn minute," he says on an inhale of breath he's struggling to keep from devolving into a further fit. "If you're the fork, doesn't that make me the meat? Who's the meat? Not the knife. Is this four now?" Which, three had been more than enough so he raises a hand and waves away the question, deciding he really doesn't want her answer.
With her so closeby now, the changeup into actual wonder allows him to step into the offended role. "I'm sorry, did you just ask if I'm a criminal? This is feeling like slander!" A wide, wicked grin creeps out just before he reaches out to abruptly hook her hip-hung arm with him. He hauls her towards him, tipping her back to his chest as he gravely laughs. "I'm glad to know you have very strict ice cream standards." His expression dances with delight at the possibility of pushing that button though. "Tell me, why does using a fork mean I chew the forkful?" He shakes his head. "The fork helps you get it faster when its super frozen. You know how you sometimes bend a spoon trying to scoop it? Forks carve it."
Kaisel
Got no reason not to celebrate
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
