"Well, someone told me you should eat waffles with fried chicken." Joe shrugs, looking at her plated waffle, which unsusprisingly manages to look much more dainty and appetizing on the plate than his four waffle sandwiches, dripping with syrups and melt-y soft serve ice cream and various combinations of nuts and fruit. And the one with gravy, which he supposes is his 'savory'.

"...which is weird, you'd think sausage or bacon or something might go better?"

There was a fried chicken place across the way, on the other end of the food court, but now that he was settled and eating, Joe felt considerably less keen on the idea.

"So you got all your school shopping done, huh?" He at least had the manners to chew and swallow before speaking, flipping through the battered journal beside his tray to see what other pages he had yet to mutilate creatively.