"It kinda still smells of cat pee from the last time Tunaface got into my room," Jeremy offers cheerfully, "but it's yours all yours, beautiful.

"--and if you get me pants, oh my god, I will-- actually, I can do it for you right now."

He gets to his feet to go grab from straws from the counter-- woops, no, grab the blanket, haha, sorry there Metody, there we are, blanket yanked back up and Jeremy plucks a handful of the thin brown coffee stirrers.

He shuffles back over, drops back down into his chair, and quickly starts braiding the plastic bits together.

"Your tiara is in production! Now where's my pants?"