Plushie
"What the heck is that?"
"What's what?" Cleo said, blinking at Rikki. Her eyes fell upon the cream-coloured-but-rapidly-browning toy seal, lying on the other couch, staring at them with one falling-out eye, the other one blanked out by someone's sharp nails.
She let out a small sound of recognition. "Oh. That's Sealey. I've had him since I was tiny."
"First of all—you're still tiny." Rikki said. "Second of all—he looks retarded."
Cleo gasped. "No! No he doesn't!" she said, and scooped the toy up in her arms. "And don't use those kinds of words. It's offensive and insulting."
"I hate to say it, Cleo, but aren't those two words synonyms?"
"No... well, yeah, maybe... you're mean."
"No, all I am is right. And awesome. Pretty awesome." She said. "But Bella will agree with me."
"No she won't. Bella's a sweetie. You aren't." Cleo hugged the plush closer. "Besides, she's at work."
"Bella will definitely agree with me. She's the bluntest person I know."
"That isn't true. She's only blunt when she's hammered."
Rikki blinked. "I get the feeling we're getting off topic."
Cleo nodded. "Yes, yes we are." She said. "Lewis will agree with me."
Rikki snorted. "He's your boyfriend. So totally biased."
"No he isn't! He's always honest."
"Ah, no, no way. When he dropped Emma's iPod in his cereal, he didn't tell her for two and a half weeks."
"With good reason. He wore that bandage for month."
"A month?" Rikki said with a scoff. "Please. You're exaggerating."
"No, I'm not... well, yeah, maybe I am."
Rikki snorted. "I can see you're definitely not honest."
Cleo glanced over at her water bottle. "It's kind of in the job description."
Rikki made a face. "I suppose so."
Cleo stared up at her, eyes wide. "Are we getting off topic again?"