Jeremy scrunched his nose up and gave a firm shake of his head. "Trust me, I'm never eating it again after that. I'm no masochist, no matter how much Puck and Blaine swear that place is where they always get it from. I don't care, it was evil. I think it's the business Voldemort's minions run when they didn't have his butt to kiss anymore." But when she asked him why he was being so sweet, he wasn't even sure what she meant by it. "I'm not... I just want to help you. Is that, like, a crime in Miami or something? I'm sorry if I'm overstepping the mark or making you uncomfortable. This is just me, I'm sorry. I'm not exactly sure why anyone would attempt to make you feel worse, but you must have some really awkward friends..." That wasn't intended as an insult, but he just wasn't sure why he wouldn't help her. He hoped if he was in her shoes, someone would help him some day. His parents had always raised him to treat people how you wanted to be treated. It was generally a lesson Jeremy had absorbed whilst his identical twin had been immune to the advice.

In his mind, though, she just needed, say, bottled water or toilet paper or maybe even, like, girl things that he would happily get if she told him what to look for. This, though? This. This Jeremy had absolutely no way to prepare for. He came out to get toilet paper so Blaine wouldn't keep flipping out and go all sassy gay diva bitch on them. He came out to get toilet paper to keep the peace and do his bit as Blaine's brother through this worrying time. What he didn't come to the store for was... a baby?! Holy fuck. He was failing to actually outwardly react too. It was all inner freaking out, and outward, he just sort of gaped at her, green eyes huge and mouth hanging open a little. There was a funny ringing in his ears that he didn't recognise either and he was sure his heart was trying to thump it's way out from behind his rib cage. A wave of heat crept over his skin too with a funny prickling sensation that made him wonder if he was maybe about to have a heart attack or a stroke. "But I... didn't we... d-didn't I... a-are you sure...? I-I mean... I, um..." he stammered, tongue trapping any rational words. "Hey, hang on! If all this makes you a slut, then it makes me a slut too and I'm not a slut! My twin is a slut, but I'm not a slut. I have maybe had, like, three flings in my whole life and those were just like one-off things and all the other times? Total droughts! Just so you know! And that one time? I had an itchy dick and Bas totally pulled the piss saying I had crabs when I hadn't even been with anyone for ages, I still got checked out just in case and it turned out to be an allergic reaction to washing powder! It wasn't even anything slightly slutty!"