Summer just shakes her head, taking the next three for herself. She tosses one up into the air and it hits her on the nose instead of her mouth.
Mordred cackles, placing his hand in front of his mouth in attempt to stop himself from laughing. “You tried.”
“One day,” she threatens, grinning, shaking a finger at him, “one day, Mordred, there will be something which I am better at, and you will rue that day!” She hurls another grape at him.