"Ugh, what's this?" Lincoln asked, alarmed, as Sara scrutinized the vegetable stands.
"Broccoli?"
"It looks like it has a gross skin disease."
Sara glared at her soon-to-be brother-in-law before carefully rolling the trolley further, ignoring him.
"How about this?" he asked hopefully as he reappeared and shook a carton box in front of her face.
"A frozen pizza? Seriously?"
"It looks tasty. And it's traditionally cooked!"
"Lincoln!"
"It's family-sized. Don't you think it's a nice way to welcome that girl into our family?"
"Cynthia. Not 'that girl'. Is it really the sort of first impression you want to make on your son's girlfriend? 'Hello, I'm LJ's father –I'm sure you heard about me when I escaped from death row–"
"That's just low," he noted, "Even for you."
"…'and I couldn't be bothered cooking dinner, but if you don't like pizza, I'm sure you I can find dehydrated noodles somewhere. Or maybe throw some popcorn in the microwave. Now get me a beer and be quiet while I watch the game, please.' She's going to love you."
"Hey, popcorn is good. I missed popcorn for three years. Don't insult popcorn."
"Oh, grow up!"
"Fine, no pizza. But do we really have to eat that… that…"
"Yes, Lincoln, we do," Sara interrupted impatiently. "Cynthia is a vegetarian, so just once this week you're going to have to eat something green that's not coming from a factory. It's tough, I know, but we all have to make sacrifices for the ones we love," she finished, giving him a pointed look.
"Why would someone give up on steak? She's obviously deranged."
"And you're obviously hooked on junk food even though it's going to kill you some day. It's something we all have to live with. Now, can I trust you to pick a bottle of wine or are you capable of messing it up?"
"That, I can do," he affirmed proudly before jogging away once more.
Moments later, Lincoln was back at her side, a silly grin on his face that told Sara she's better brace herself.
"Look what I found: cheese in a can! Fancy, yet practical. Can we get one?"
"Lincoln…"
"What? There's no dead animal in it! At least I don't think…"
"Grow up, Lincoln!"
"That's your answer to everything, isn't it?" he mumbled as he reluctantly walked away to put back the can at its place.
Meanwhile, Sara was left to shake her head and wonder how exactly she had reached that point in her life –grocery shopping with the 37 years old teenage brother of her over-analysing, control-freak, planning-obsessed fiancé, both recently exonerated from murder charges.
"Yep, that's my life," she muttered as she pushed her kart towards the wine alley.