"Take my hand," He ordered approaching me.

"Eww no," I said childishly.

"Just do it." He said grabbing my wrist and hauling me back towards the house.

"I swear to God if you don't let me go I will-"

"I swear to God," he mocked in a high pitched squeaky tone.

Someone's got their knickers in a twist. Geez, is he Mr moody pants or what??

"I don't even talk like that," I protested.

"I don't even talk like that," he repeated.

"Okay. Can you stop being so rude?"

"Can you tell me what you are doing out here this late?"

"I saw an injured chicken and I had to follow it," I lied.

"You're telling me a chicken, a non-native species to the mountains of Washington, was wandering injured around the woods at night?"

"Precisely."

"Unlikely story clearly made up on the toilet."

Dang, I thought that was a reasonable lie. At least I can say I tried.

"Do you have any Cheetos?" I asked.

"What?"

"I just suddenly felt really in the mood for Cheetos. I don't even like them that much but they're quite moreish. Once you've had one there's no going back-"

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?"

"If I annoy you that much why don't you just let me go right now? It's you who is forcing me to stay with you not the other way round," I argued as the house came into sight.

"I am not going to let you go right now and tomorrow isn't looking good either...or the next day for that matter or the next or the-"

"I think I get the point."