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Nina

“Because you can’t eat popcorn with a spoon, and it’s uncivilized to eat frosting with your fingers,” says Nina.

“Ah,” says Jax. “So the fridge and oven are open and on because…?”

“The heat went out this morning.” Nina wriggles down into the blankets. “Refrigeration is exothermic, you know.”

“How do you make everything seem so reasonable?” Jax finally shuts the door and shrugs off his bag.

“Get over here,” says Nina, victorious. She dips out a ladleful of Orville Redenbacher Original Butter and rolls it in Betty Crocker Vanilla Sprinkles. “I’ll make it reasonable that we’re watching Teen Wolf Too.

Jax

Nina’s talk with the old Japanese man is quick, quiet and furious, but when they’re done they both look happy.

“Essence of what?” asks Jax, back on the street.

“Kitsch,” Nina giggles, and sprinkles a few drops from the bottle on her shirt. It blooms an iron-on St. Pauli Girl.

Jax is awed. “Let me try!” He sprinkles his arms, sprouting dozens of bangle bracelets. He tries his shirt and gets Mister Rogers with a gun.

“You don’t need much–” Nina says, but Jax is splashing himself now. Shoes with wheels. Pink bows up his jean seams. Doc Holliday moustache.

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