His shoes smacked against the pavement as he stalked in the direction that he thought Mr. Mackey’s Burger place was in (he was wrong, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him). He walked like he was trying to be a soldier, except his arms swung too wide and a grin was set on his face that was too big for anyone faced with the idea of being forced to kill someone else. 

“What’re you going to do when you get there?” you asked, trailing behind him, hopping around the aquarium pebbles he kept dropping behind him. 

“Dunno,” he said. “But it’ll be something. You gonna do it with me?” 

You snorted at the accidental innuendo and he stoppped walking, making you almost bump into him. He glared at you. 

“You coming or not?” he asked, annoyed.

You straightened up and lifted your chin. “Of course.”

Then he smiled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. And you couldn’t help but like the way it felt. 

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