You and Ramona were calmly walking back home after a party, her large stomach swaying from side to side as it spilled under her black hoodie and jean jacket, her leggings being slightly ripped on her hips and her pink shorts and subspace bag barely holding on.

She'd pant a bit, looking back at you to interrupt anything you were going to say.

"Make another bread joke, and it won't be my hammer that pulverizes you..."