Grimmjow.: *Has been upset for over a week for no foreseeable reason.*
Zarea.: I'm making dinner tonight.
Grimmjow.: *Does not move a muscle from his bed where he's been laying, covered in crumbs from doritos, and surrounded in empty MTN Dew bottles.* ...
Zarea.: Bean burritos.
Grimmjow.: *Gasps and sits up faster than the speed of light.* Los Frijolès.!?
Zarea.: I had no idea what you just said but yes.


















