Wow. While she gave him the Ball Speech (as it would go down in history.) his life flashed before his eyes like a made-for-T.V. movie. There was him stealing gum in the grocery store, him dicing carrots with his mother in the kitchen, his first kiss with that bitch blonde girl in kindergarten who would steal and eat his paste, college, concrete, dust, vomit, faces in windows. When it all came to a close, he thought wow, she really thought he'd let some floozy get herself knocked up by him? And also, that he needed to do more with his life. Because wow.
The bargain was a fierce negotiation. He studied her then quietly, once the humorous grin died down on his features, left only were the embers of its earlier rein flickering out of their seething. It was kinda funny looking at her being all serious and business like and... jealous? Was she being jealous? He didn't know whether or not to be afraid or flattered. He settled for both. This topic was about his balls, after all, which seemed to wince at being mentioned through her biting conditions.
"Peaches," he began, breathing out the breath he finally had been keeping. "You understand that there's two types of getting pregnant, getting knocked up and getting knocked down. I'm the fucking prize." he batted his lashes, pointing down to the buffet since he couldn't settle on any one thing. "Same." he said to the waiter, grabbing both their menus and handing them off. Focus was on the conversation and his company, not mr. bowtie who wanted a nice tip for better shoes.
"And I realize that what glitters out of me like diamonds is the type of being knocked up that every gold digging cunt in Los Angeles drools and prays to Jesus for. But you see, I'm not dumb. There won't be any trips to Maury for or lie detector tests for you, you have nothing to worry about."