“Hey hey hey!” Tony said waving a wooden spoon at Summer. “Get away from that fish tank.” He had been in the kitchen for about 20 minutes trying to figure out what to make them for dinner. “It’s not that I don’t trust you around breakable stuff; I just don’t trust you around my fish.” Tony laughed. “I’m still convinced you’re gunna murder my little Herbie.”
“I /am/ part cat,” Summer teased, ostentatiously putting her hands behind her back. “I’m really not that picky, Tony. If this is a bid to impress me it’s not working.” She straddled a chair backward, propping her chin on the back of it and watching him generally frown at his kitchen.
“I’m not gunna win this bet with macaroni and cheese,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. He turned and opened the refrigerator door and looked inside for the tenth time. “Fuck I give up. How about I just order pizza?” he said, pushing the door close with a defeated look on his face.
She shrugged. “Sure, that’s fine. No pineapple, though. Fruit does not belong on pizza.” It was a definitive statement, and she grinned, waiting for his reaction, before climbing up out of the chair. Going over to the fish tank again, she tapped at the side.