[ he hadn't planned on eating her share — in fact, he's barely touched his, having made a point not to bother actually getting ice cream before eleven confirmed she was going to show.
he sits cross-legged, an ice cream in a hand apiece waiting for her to approach. he catches sight of her hurrying towards him, then slowing; and he pretends not to have seen the former — although the way the corners of his lips quirk up into an amused smile do a poor job at reinforcing the fact.
he mms at the question, attention shifting from eleven to one of the ice creams in his hand— ]
—I was going to give you two more minutes. Then all bets were off.
[ She gives him a pointed look that absolutely belies her enthusiasm, if the way she looks from him to the ice cream and back again is any indication. ]
no subject
he sits cross-legged, an ice cream in a hand apiece waiting for her to approach. he catches sight of her hurrying towards him, then slowing; and he pretends not to have seen the former — although the way the corners of his lips quirk up into an amused smile do a poor job at reinforcing the fact.
he mms at the question, attention shifting from eleven to one of the ice creams in his hand— ]
—I was going to give you two more minutes. Then all bets were off.
no subject
[ She gives him a pointed look that absolutely belies her enthusiasm, if the way she looks from him to the ice cream and back again is any indication. ]
What flavour?