The breakfast spread was elaborate, even by Jake’s standards. Thick slices of toast drenched in butter, crispy strips of bacon still popping from the fire, orange juice, and fresh grapefruit, and of course…two immaculate omelettes nearly as big as Finn’s head. Jake’s special recipe, he could tell by looking.
Finn feels himself slump into the seat, taking the steaming mug that one of Jake’s arms slides in front of him. He liked Lemon Zinger.
“No sugar, I’ll just take it like this.” He sighs, a frown on his face as he says it. They both knew Finn liked it with sugar (extra sugar, even). But right now he wasn’t feeling very sweet. Boys who kill their friends can’t have sugar in their Lemon Zinger like nothing happened.
no subject
Finn feels himself slump into the seat, taking the steaming mug that one of Jake’s arms slides in front of him. He liked Lemon Zinger.
“No sugar, I’ll just take it like this.” He sighs, a frown on his face as he says it. They both knew Finn liked it with sugar (extra sugar, even). But right now he wasn’t feeling very sweet. Boys who kill their friends can’t have sugar in their Lemon Zinger like nothing happened.