Summer laughed. “I actually just made that up to sound good, although I can if you want; it /is/ kind of terrible on the design side. No, I heard you were actually being responsible and I had to come check it out, like a performing show, you know,” she teased. She dangled a reusable grocery bag from one hand. “I brought doughnuts.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Yes, I am being responsible. Save me Summer, it’s killing me,” he moaned and sprawled on his desk melodramatically, though he perked up when he saw the doughnuts. “Give me the fried pastry goodness. GIVE MEEEE.”
“Settle down, sparky. These are like phoenix downs, I don’t wanna waste ‘em.” Holding the bag at arm’s length, she approached the desk slowly, like she was feeding a wild animal. “Do I get anything in return for this rescue effort?”
“Depends, what do you want?” Tony asked, eyes focused wholly on the bag. “Summmer, please.” The doughnuts smelled so good. He hadn’t eaten anything today, either.
“Come to Coney Island with me. I want to play, and I hate going alone.” Removing one box from the bag, she deposited it on the desk just out of his easy reach. “I’ll fix it with Pepper later.”