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"Well, patience is a virtue," he responded with a grin. "Why don't we make it a guessing game? Here’s a clue for you. It's something that can travel both on water and in air."
I eagerly shouted out the first things that came to mind – a duck, a flying fish, a seagull. Hank roared with laughter at each guess, his chest shaking with the force of it.
"Alright, those were some unique guesses. Let's just say the next clue could come at any time."
I groaned dramatically, throwing myself back onto the picnic blanket. "That's not fair," I complained. "You're just making this harder because you know I'm too smart for you!"
Hank just chuckled. "We'll see about that.”
The picnic basket he brought was a treasure trove of healthy delights - whole grain sandwiches, freshly cut fruits, vegetable sticks with hummus, and granola bars. My eyes widened in horror as I registered the distinct absence of cookies and cupcakes.
"Hank!" I exclaimed. "You know I'm allergic to anything that's not sugar-coated, right?"
He raised an eyebrow at me, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Oh really? And when were you diagnosed with this unique condition?"
"Just now!" I shot back. "It's a very serious condition, so don’t laugh at its name. It's called 'lack-of-sweets-itis'."
"Well, we wouldn't want you to suffer now, would we? But for the sake of 'balance-osis', we should have some of these first," he said, pointing at the array of healthy foods in front of us.
I stuck my tongue out at him. "You're so mean."
"And you, princess, are a riot," he replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
With a sigh, I picked up a carrot stick, nibbling on it with a frown on my face. "Healthy stuff," I grumbled.
To change the mood, I brought out my favorite lunch box, adorned with cartoons of my favorite animated characters. I opened it to reveal a treasure of snacks - colorful gummies, miniature chocolate chip cookies, and a juice box. I offered it to Hank, his chuckle reverberating through the quiet park.
"These are more suited for Littles, don't you think?" he asked, taking a gummy and popping it into his mouth.
As he wiped my mouth clean at the end of lunch, I noticed a butterfly fluttering nearby. It was delicate, its wings shimmering in the afternoon sun. I excitedly tried to reach out to it, but Hank stopped me.
"Lina, we need to respect nature," he said gently, holding my hand. "This little butterfly has its own life, just like we do. It's not a toy for us to play with, but a living creature to appreciate and respect. We can enjoy its beauty without causing it any harm."
I pouted a little, understanding but still disappointed. Hank surprised me by pulling out a bubble wand.
"You're like a walking toy store," I gasped. "All I brought you was a lunch box full of snacks."
"Well, I always say it's the thought that counts. And I do love gummies."
"Well, then I hope you brought a toothbrush," I teased, the bubble wand already in my hand.
Chasing and popping bubbles soon became our main activity, filling the air with laughter and joy.
"Go, princess, go!" he cheered, clapping his hands together. "Show those bubbles who's the boss!"
Once I had enough fun and returned to the oak tree’s shade, Hank revealed a second basket to me, filled to the brim with my favorite goodies. There were colorful macarons, fluffy cupcakes with creamy frosting, and an assortment of fruit candies that always melted in my mouth. A soft, plush blanket was neatly folded at the bottom, accompanied by a set of crayons and a few princess-themed coloring books.
Feeling like a kid on Christmas morning, I reached for a rainbow-colored macaron. However, Hank playfully swatted my hand away, a smirk on his face.
"Patience," he said, closing the basket with a grin. "Those are for later. We have plenty of other things to do."
I pouted. "You're the meanest nice person I know," I huffed.
"And you," he replied, a chuckle in his voice, "are the sweetest troublemaker I've ever met."
As we sat under the tree, Hank brought up the topic of our boundaries and potential triggers. Finn’s impatience and rage were far too familiar to me. There were moments where I found myself trapped in those memories, moments when his anger would rise, and his voice would echo off the walls of our apartment. I shared my triggers – loud voices that reminded me of Finn's anger, the physical intimidation that had left invisible scars.
"Such a brave girl. I promise you, I'll be mindful of your triggers. We're a team, okay?"
