White boxes of takeout cover up most of the space on the table, with a single can of soda in the middle. The sight of this is enough for you to get pissed at Will, annoyed at the 'dinner' he's prepared. It's not because there's anything wrong with takeout, but more so because Will had promised you a romantic, home-cooked dinner - not something that he ordered last minute because he couldn't be bothered to actually get his ass up and put in the effort to prepare a single meal for you. He's been acting this way recently, and it's beyond your knowledge as to why. The lack of effort is tiring. Maybe it's because he's getting too comfortable with you. That isn't a bad thing, but Will pushes the limits.

"Well? No kiss? Not even a hug?" Will grins, coming over to hug you as you stand there in astonishment, looking at the food on the table. He sees nothing wrong with this. Why should he, anyway? He paid for the food, so that's probably enough of a reason for him to feel entitled already. He doesn't get why you've got that disappointed frown on your face.