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. (hourglasss) wrote in snapthread,

"You don't want reviews about COFFEE. When someone decides to troll you with a mean review, and they will, even if it's tongue-in-cheek, it'll get on your head, and you'll needle over it. And I'll feel bad that you're needling, and I'll suggest we figure out some ridiculous idea to improve whatever dumb thing the review harped on, and we will end up in a Home Depot somewhere with me trying to distract the sales staff while you figure out how to smuggle ten gallons of paint back through the magical mystery door without anyone noticing. And at some point, the paint cans will explode. I'm not sure how, exactly, but they will."

Natasha said it all so idly, with her attention still focused on the little purple arrow she was tracing, trying to not smudge up. Like it was something that was just a given - hundreds, maybe thousands of stupid things they'd done over a lifetime, and like she had entirely too much fondness for every single one.

When she realized it, she finally looked up from her work to smile at him, a private kind of smile. "Though I guess the problem is that now I've suggested it, I don't think that it doesn't sound like fun." She missed that kind of stuff. They'd always been terrible influences on each other. That much had never changed, down tot he very last minute of her life - the egging on, the one upsmanship.

His hand was on her knee. That was good, too. "Thank you for letting me come over," she said. "It's - easy, with you. Always is."