[ her lips part, seemingly all too ready to lay into him, the particularly biting lines pretty much committed to memory by now—but then he laughs, big and buoyant and carefree in only the way he can be, and that's somehow all it takes to cleanly pierce through the rising tide of her agitation, to send it washing back. slowly, her hand slides down from her forehead to her mouth, uselessly trying to cork her own giggles threatening to bubble out. ]
Of course no pancakes. We have to clean you up, stu-pid!
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Of course no pancakes. We have to clean you up, stu-pid!