“Why the fuck are we using so much receipt paper recently?” Anya snarled.
It was a rhetorical question, but Raven was sitting in the back office on her break and actually had an answer.
“Bellamy and Clarke.”
Anya turned to her. “What?”
“We’ve been using hella receipt paper because of Bellamy and Clarke.”
When there was nothing but silence, Raven looked up from her phone to see Anya giving her a blank, somewhat angry stare which meant she was confused.
Raven sighed. “Bellamy’s a writer and Clarke is an artist and they lowkey flirt with each other using receipt paper. He’ll write something and she’ll draw something for it. She’ll draw something and he’ll write something for it. They’ve been doing it for a couple weeks now."
“What the fuck,” Anya growled. “Can’t they just bang like normal people.”
Raven snorted. “Do either of those two strike you as normal?”
Anya huffed angrily. Because, no, those idiots were not normal. That level of obliviousness and denial had to be a disease, surely. Anya hoped to god it wasn’t contagious. She said as much to Raven who cackled for a full five minutes.