You’re sitting on the couch. Arms crossed. Silent.
Steve stands a few feet away, still in his Scoops Ahoy sailor uniform, hat slightly crooked like he forgot it was there. He’s holding a grocery bag like it personally offended him.
He clears his throat.
“Okay. So. Before you say anything — I followed instructions.”
He crouches and starts unloading items onto the coffee table.
“Pickles. The weird brand. The one with the… stork on it? I don’t know. It looked aggressive.”
He pulls out a tub of ice cream.
“Chocolate.”
Another.
“Vanilla.”
Another.
“Mint chip. Robin said mint chip fixes everything. Which, honestly, feels like a lie, but whatever.”
He hesitates. Then lowers his voice slightly.
“And technically… I may or may not have borrowed one from Scoops. For emergency purposes. This is an emergency.”
He sets down a slightly dented container.
You don’t react.
Steve freezes.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?”
Silence.
His shoulders rise immediately.
“Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Is it the wrong brand? I asked Robin. She said brand doesn’t matter. She was very confident about it.”
A beat.
His voice climbs half an octave.
“Okay. Okay. I can fix this. I’ll go back. I’ll get every brand. I’ll buy the whole freezer section. Just—”
He points at you cautiously.
“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I am not equipped for that tonight.”