Little bit of both? ( a vague shrug. ) It's kind of strange, actually — seems like every month, something happens. Some festival or holiday or city-wide crisis, whatever it takes. And there was a whole kidnapping cult thing, too, so...

( she trails off as he turns to the vendor to order, watching with barely repressed amusement as he explains that they'd like whatever the watermelon special happens to be. and, in all honesty, she thought she was prepared for the possibilities. but when it's passed over to him, skye realizes that whatever she thought a giant watermelon filled with rum was going to look or feel like, this definitely wasn't it. the thing is easily twenty pounds of sloshing liquid and two impossibly tall straws, and with the hot air outside and cold air inside, the rind of the fruit quickly begins to sweat. it's basically a recipe for dropping a watermelon keg on the ground, and skye thinks it'd probably be best to avoid that particular disaster.

luckily for them both, there's a picnic table not far away. convenient and shaded, no less, an excellent place to relocate and tackle this outrageous party beverage. when they settle, she levels him with a lightly raised brow and a held out straw of his very own. )

I mean, this thing's begging to be shared. ( there are two straws, after all. ) Unless you want your own — don't let me get in the way of your party. You only show up on the moon once, right?