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They wrinkled their nose in disgust.
“Euegh,” they shuddered, practically shoving the offending object back across the table. Ricardo is too busy laughing hysterically to pay their actions any mind, and they shoot him a disgruntled look. “It’s not funny,” Vee complains.
“It’s ice cream, who doesn’t like ice cream?” Ricardo has finally calmed down enough to answer, though he still wipes away a stray tear from his laughter. They stick their tongue out at him, and that seems to set him off in another fit of giggles.
Ricardo had so ever graciously bribed them to venture out today- and it wasn’t exactly hard. According to the forecast, this was a record breaking heatwave for the city, and it seems as though half the city came up with the same solution as Ric- to find a cold, allegedly delicious delicacy. Vee wouldn’t know about the truthfulness of that, of course. Sweets weren’t necessarily high on the Farm’s priorities.
So, here they are, pursing their lips in distaste at the offending sweet across the table from them.
“I don’t like it. It’s… cold.” They wrinkle their nose, displeasure radiating from their expression. Their disgust for the ice cream is blatantly not shared as they watch Ric pull the ice cream closer to him- he already finished his. Though, at their comment he pauses, spoon hovering in front of his mouth. “That’s the point, Vee,” he points out.
They roll their eyes. “I know, I know, it’s just… I dunno. I don’t like it.” They flail their hand helplessly as they gesture, unable to put the extent of their distaste in words. They could, of course, but not without giving away more of their past than they would feel comfortable with. It’s bad enough that Ric squints his eyes in a familiar way- he’s connecting the dots in his frustratingly unreadable mind of his. He’s terribly clever when he wants to be. He puts the spoon down, and reaches his hand across the table. They don’t put up a fuss when he takes their hand.
“Vee…” He trails off. They squeeze his hand, a silent reassurance. They don’t want to know what he was going to say- they don’t think they can bear that level of tenderness. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever.
He squeezes their hand back. It’s with reluctance that Vee pulls their hand free. They can’t afford to let their walls down too much, and they’ve already been far too vulnerable than they feel comfortable with today. They shake their head. “It’s fine, I’ll just get a scone or something. They have those here, right?” And with that, the easygoing mood has been restored, the smiles and laughter returning soon after.
But neither of them miss the air of tension, and maybe a tinge of longing, that lingers long after the conversation has shifted.