Jeremy was on autopilot when he went back into the store. There wasn't many brain cells in his head that were still working, but somehow he did find himself back in the aisle he just left (that was just finished on the clean-up and the poor janitor was pushing away his mop and bucket), and just stood there numbly in front of the rows upon rows of pregnancy tests. Did this many people really get knocked up in Miami?! Holy fuck. And how could a thing with one purpose take so many forms? Blue lines, pink lines, digital screens, no lines, words, words and predicting how far alone you were, purple dots, vertical lines, horizontal lines... and all declaring to be 'THE BEST AND MOST ACCURATE ON THE MARKET'. "Well, you can't all fucking be," Jeremy mumbled to himself as he grabbed up three different boxes and juggled them in his hands to try and figure out what he was supposed to know here.
What he really didn't need either was some ripped smart-ass surfer dude come up next to him and snicker as he grabbed a box of condoms. "Dude, you wouldn't be in this mess if you forked out for Trojans first. Tough break, bud," he said with another snort of a laugh and gave Jeremy a matey sort of nudge in the arm. The bastard was lucky he was already walking away, because Jeremy really wanted to thump him in the head and then suffocate him with a Trojan. It shouldn't be that hard to pull a condom over someone's head, right? Gave a whole new meaning to the concept of 'dickhead' anyway. Instead, he settled for giving the guy a glare that would have cut glass had it been physical, and then just shoved the two other boxes back on the shelf and settled for the one with the digital screen that would outright say PREGNANT or NOT PREGNANT. He was a guy... guys liked gadgets.
He paid for the test and came back out to where Quinn was. He was still feeling shaky and anxious, and he either wanted to throw up or go to the nearest bathroom and suffer explosive diarrhoea from an anxiety attack. Neither was off the cards, and he could still end up doing that if this test showed what he was fearing. "W-We should go. Do you have your keys?" he asked her, handing her the paper bag with the test and holding out his hand for the keys to her car. "Is anyone at home at your place?"
no subject
What he really didn't need either was some ripped smart-ass surfer dude come up next to him and snicker as he grabbed a box of condoms. "Dude, you wouldn't be in this mess if you forked out for Trojans first. Tough break, bud," he said with another snort of a laugh and gave Jeremy a matey sort of nudge in the arm. The bastard was lucky he was already walking away, because Jeremy really wanted to thump him in the head and then suffocate him with a Trojan. It shouldn't be that hard to pull a condom over someone's head, right? Gave a whole new meaning to the concept of 'dickhead' anyway. Instead, he settled for giving the guy a glare that would have cut glass had it been physical, and then just shoved the two other boxes back on the shelf and settled for the one with the digital screen that would outright say PREGNANT or NOT PREGNANT. He was a guy... guys liked gadgets.
He paid for the test and came back out to where Quinn was. He was still feeling shaky and anxious, and he either wanted to throw up or go to the nearest bathroom and suffer explosive diarrhoea from an anxiety attack. Neither was off the cards, and he could still end up doing that if this test showed what he was fearing. "W-We should go. Do you have your keys?" he asked her, handing her the paper bag with the test and holding out his hand for the keys to her car. "Is anyone at home at your place?"