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"Do you have to eat it like that?" It wasn't how she was eating it, really. Harrow had made a habit of licking her spoon between bites of her ice cream, and Gideon found she couldn't keep her eyes off her. She was doing it on purpose, Gideon was fairly sure.
Harrow met Gideon's eyes as she licked her spoon again. Her tongue was black now. "I'll eat however I please," she said primly.
Gideon snorted. "The whole place can see you doing that, you know," she pointed out.
"Should I care?" Harrow took another bite, swallowed, licked her spoon again.
The ice cream was black: Charcoal ice cream. It was for the aesthetic, apparently, and Gideon wrinkled her nose and asked, "Does that even taste good?" It must have, she thought. Harrow was always eating and drinking weird black things lately. Was maintaining the aesthetic worth eating things that tasted shitty?
Tapping her spoon against her bottom lip, Harrow asked, "Do you want a taste?" She took up a spoonful and offered it, but Gideon took the cup instead. She took a long lick directly from the swirl of ice cream, much like a dog, and Harrow scoffed, "Griddle!"
"I didn't wanna use your spoon!" Gideon laughed, then laughed harder when Harrow tossed a wadded-up napkin at her. "I don't know where your mouth has been!"
Harrow laughed, too, the sound sharp, the same as the little smile that tugged at the edges of her lips. "You know exactly where my mouth has been," she pointed out.
Gideon snorted again. "I've been a bad influence on you, huh?"
Harrow, who was soft and relaxed, looking quite at home in this little hipster ice cream joint, agreed, "The worst."