She rolls her eyes indulgently - reclaiming his arm as they make their way downhill and decidedly not using him as anything even vaguely resembling a human-shaped support beam.
(Hills may or may not be worse than stairs. She cannot quite decide.)
The smile curls up crookedly, "And what sort of pie do you imagine will be in-season then?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-08-04 03:36 am (UTC)(Hills may or may not be worse than stairs. She cannot quite decide.)
The smile curls up crookedly, "And what sort of pie do you imagine will be in-season then?"