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Bellamy wants to hate it. Hell, he hates Whole Foods on principle; that’s why he’s never been into one.
But, well, it’s so convenient to his and Clarke’s new place; directly in front of the Foggy Bottom stop where he gets off the Metro every night. And eventually laziness was going to win over his pride.
Much to his horror, he loves it. There’s a bulk aisle where he gets to scoop fancy gummy bears and chocolate covered cherries into bags until Clarke yells at him about “real food” (as if she’s never been known to take down a chocolate cake solo). There’s ingredients he wants to try, wants to cook with, but has never had easy access to before–Buddha’s hand and passion fruit and bags of carob powder for those energy bars Octavia has been bugging him to try making for almost a month now. And there are so many options, he refuses on principle to bring another turkey sandwich for lunch for at least a week. He is a kid and this is his metaphorical candy store.
His enthusiasm tapers when they’re checking out, eye bugging comically at the final price tag, but Clarke just swipes her card and shakes her head as she tucks herself into his side.
(He alternates between grumbling and espousing all the way home, reusable bags thumping against their legs.)