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Connor snorts, flaps his hand dismissively. "He's wigging out because he was expecting you to do a mini-Annie impression with her self-appointed curfew and post-it notes and you're failing miserably. For one, Annie never would've gotten a single mini-box of cereal. Where's the milk for this?"
"Can you stop eating my shit?" Ramona snaps.
Infuriatingly, it only makes his eyes glint brighter. "Hey, now you're getting it. A little higher of a pitch next time, she gets nasally."
Or; Ramona takes on New York for better or worse. Mostly for worse though.

