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?”