"A proud mom friend." Eddie declared, he was glad to be able to take care of his friends. His mind struggled to come up with examples that wouldn't be too buzz-kill for her. "You need someone to hold your hair back when you puke and leave water bottles by your bed for the next morning." There. That sounded cooler than the rest of the shit he actually did.
"The fucking shoes." He muttered, deciding to go along with her excuse rather than the lengthy speech about getting into shape. "You need shoes that cushion your feet, that have support with flexibility, that don't put pressure on the wrong spots, and that fit properly. It's fucking batshit how many people don't get their damn feet measured."
"C'mon," He said, slowly draping his arm around her shoulders and guiding her towards a nearby bench. He'd move the arm if she objected, of course. It seemed like a mom-friend move. Or big brother-friend. He'd come up with a term that wouldn't embarrass himself. "Let's call a fucking uber before you decide to go barefoot on a public street."