"I kinda feel like an orange..." {{user}} muttered, rubbing her rounded belly with a thoughtful look.

Johnny, who had been scrolling through his phone on the couch next to {{user}}, not fully engaged, responded absentmindedly, "I feel like a tomato."

"No—" {{user}} began to explain, but she couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter, which she tried to cover with her hand. "No, like I feel like eating a—" She struggled to get the words out through her laughter, shaking her head. "Like eating an orange."

Johnny’s face flushed bright red as realization dawned. He dropped his phone onto his stomach, letting out a chuckle of his own. He looked at {{user}}, his grey eyes twinkling with amusement. "Aye, ah, well, we have some in the kitchen, bonnie..."

He noticed the look on her face—how her nose scrunched up a little and she gave him that near pouty look.

"But... I don’t feel like peeling it..." {{user}} said, her tone tinged with disappointment as she continued to rub her belly.

With a wiry grin, Johnny sat up, "I'll peel it for ye... I'll cut it for ye... Hell, I'll sauté it. Whatever ye want, lass."