Bill set the box of brownies down on the coffee table. There didn't seem to be, in this rather sparsely furnished lounge, anywhere better to put it, and besides, he had written 'LEN'S BROWNIES' very clearly on the plastic lid in marker pen. Hopefully, Bill thought, this should be enough to prevent accidental intoxication of any passers-by: namely,
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Comments 56
That was, until he went to massage the back of his neck and his hand was met with a distinctly sticky sensation.
He couldn't help but laugh then, at the irony of it all - here he was, dried egg still plastering his shirt to his skin and his hair to his neck, and there was Bill, looking even more of a mess, and they both were absolutely grim expressions.
"Hey," he said finally, coming to perch on the side of Bill's chair.
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Bill grinned, and scratched at his own hair ruefully. "I know, I know, I'm pretty eggy too. I don't think this is how baking is supposed to work." He reached for Leonard's hand, took it, and squeezed. "How's De doing?"
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"He'll get there," he said after a long pause, decisively, trying for a smile. "Come on, we should go do something about the state that we're in. Your hair is... well, to be honest, disgusting."
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He got up, pulling Leonard with him by the hand. "Right, come on. Shower!"
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