She laughed a little. “You’re not going to give up, are you? I thought I was making you be friends with me, not the other way round.” Another glance, slanted up at him, before she straightened her shoulders. “You win for now. Ask another question.”
“Lady, I dunno what delusion you’ve been laboring under, but nobody makes me do anything.” Stiles’ tone is lofty, downright haughty, likely intentionally given the way he’s tipped his chin up and started to hood his expressive eyes to make them seem more distant than they really are. “Okay…another question. How about…what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream, did I ask that already?”
Between his expression, his tone, and his words, she just loses it completely. It starts as a little snicker, and before long she’s laughing so hard she can’t /breathe/, much less hear his question. She wheezes in air desperately, face flushed and bright and grinning so hard it hurts, and reels over onto the keypad. “That should not have been that funny,” she gasps, wiping at her eyes.