3530 / 3334 — thought up this dumb conversation in early october
“Wait.” Hawthorn had stopped at the bakery counter this time, pulling lightly at his shirt. Johnny twisted his head to check out what she’d noticed.
“…You want a muffin, do you.” Not a question, but a confirmation. She nodded, mind fully occupied with all the different kinds on display.
“Argh…” Hawthorn pushed back her hair, re-tightening her high ponytail. “Can’t decide what kind. Pick one for me, Johnny. Surprise me,” she demanded, closing her eyes and folding her arms.
He shrugged. “O-kay…” Rustling around with the tissue paper, he grasped the closest from the tray—apple cinnamon—and dropped it into the bakery bag. “Triple wheat bran with prunes. Enjoy!” Hawthorn groaned in disgust, punching his arm. Unable to keep his deadpan, Johnny started chuckling. “Th-Think of me while you’re on the shitter,” he added, laughing harder as she hit him again and again.
