justcourbeau
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“No, I’m trying to say I don’t like your green beans!”
“I think I hear what you are saying. Loud and clear, Hollander, okay?”
“No, I—” Shane grabs his phone as Ilya watches, nonplussed, and types furiously before the sound of a message being sent swoops away. Ilya’s phone dings in his pocket a moment later.
Jane: I’m trying to say I DO like your green beans.
Ilya looks up at Shane again, still not understanding.
“I keep trying to say that—” Shane points at the phone “—but it comes out of my mouth the opposite.”
“What is happening.” It’s a statement, not a question.
In which a magical wishing well takes the liberty of granting two wishes, but in the same way a petulant child throws a loose handful of sand anywhere but the sandbox—with daring aplomb, and a disregard for everyone’s health and wellbeing. Magical wishing wells are tricky things, after all.