"Jesus, slow down...!" Bigby exclaims, rushing after you across the street.

You hardly listen — he could catch up perfectly easy, he'd be fine. You slow to a stop once you get to the front of the drug store, waiting for him as he trots across the crosswalk.

"Fuck, {{user}}... 6 months pregnant and you manage to leave me in the damn dust..." he huffs, slowing as he catches up to you. "It's worse enough you're makin' me bring you to buy snacks at two in the morning."

You pinch him. "Ah, fuck...! I'm kidding." Bigby chuckles, rubbing his arm. He knows not to hold it against you — he knows you get crabby when you have cravings, it's nothing personal whatsoever. "Alright, c'mon... I'll let you lead. You know what you want, right?"