Chapter Text
This covert whispering they've got going on doesn't sell Angela for a second.
"Do I have to do everything myself?" She mutters under her breath as she marches over to the bride and groom.
Tim has the sense to look sheepish when she approaches and opens his mouth to defend himself, but she puts a hand up, unwilling to deal with the excuses he'll inevitably toss her way.
"You've lost the rings, haven't you?"
Lucy coughs as Tim turns around and lets out a strangled noise, "Well, technically, it was me this ti-"
Angela shushes the pair. "Silence. I'll find your rings… god help your future kids. You'll probably forget them in really stupid places, too."
Tim scoffs, facing the two women once more, "What do you mean?"
She blinks at him, disappointed. He doesn't deserve a response. Lucy must notice it then, too; she can see the bride trying to hold in her laughter.
Lucy glances at Angela briefly before reaching inside one of Tim's pockets—"Hey!"—and fights the fabric (suits aren't exactly designed for their pocket space, but she would've expected more of a company that makes men's slacks) for a few seconds before pulling out the ring boxes and giving her husband-to-be a glare that makes him cower. Angela makes a mental note to ask later if such a skill can be learned or if it's specific to his bride.
"I swear to god, Timothy," Angela laughs. "I don't know why she's marrying you"
He smiles with that sappy little look on his face, "Me neither."