Harlow eyed him skeptically and then grabbed his hand, shaking it. "Fine. I'll write it down for you." She huffed, walking by him to grab a piece of paper from the counter. She started quickly writing it down in a loopy cursive font, and it only took her a few minutes to finish it by memory. She walked back to him and put it next to his plate with a smirk. "I am so getting free ice cream for the rest of my life." She said teasingly.

He smiled slightly at the smirk on her face. "Interesting handwriting. Cursive is too fancy shmancy, mine is all flat looking." He eyes the paper for a moment. Then put it in his pocket. "My father would be oh so displeased. Little does he know I'm selling under the counter ice cream." He snickered, finishing up the lovely breakfast she made.

Harlow gave a small scoff. "Half the people I know can't tell what my handwriting says. Most of my writing, if I'm writing for me, is in a weird- half cursive, half print font." She chuckled. "You're right. What would happen if he found out his first born son had... and unprofitable illegal icecream trade going on? The consequences could be dire." She teased.

"Thats a sure-fire way to make sure nobody can read your itinerary. Just make up your own language." He snickered. "Ah, I'd probably be grounded. ..As in he'd find a way to get me arrested. Y'know. Like father's do." He gave her a sneaky grin. "He'll never have to know. We'll burn the evidence like true criminals."

"Ahah, there you go. What if you can't even read the recipe? Then I'll lose nothing in this deal." She teased, taking his plate once she realized he was done. She quickly brought it to her sink to wash it, smiling at his next comment. "Sounds like a real nice guy." She said sarcastically, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Well, I didn't think ice cream was that flammable. We could always eat the evidence instead." She suggested playfully, starting to quickly wash the dishes.

"I have a lot of time on my hands. Usually. I'll figure it out." He looked at it again, trying to actually read it now that she mentioned it once her back was turned. "Factually correct. Specifically the sarcasm in that sentence." He snickered. "I was talking about the paper trail, burn that, you eat the ice cream and I will eat the pancakes."

"Lots of confidence, for someone who's barely glanced at the paper." She chimed, drying the dishes off and moving to put them away. "Oooh, that makes me 1 for 1." She grinned, reaching up to correct her ponytail, still trying to muster the courage to go get on her treadmill. "Hey, that's a fair deal. I have some matches somewhere." She smiled, leaning on the counter with a sigh and a sidelong glance at her athletics room; which had glass walls for natural light to filter in. "Egh. As fun as it's been, I'm going to go throw myself on the treadmill. If you need anything, just ask. You're welcome to anything in the cabinets, TV, whatever." She shrugged, giving him a light smile and walking off through the living room toward her destination.

"I do puzzles, I'm basically a genius." He flipped his fake hair, even if she couldn't see it. "I didn't know we were keeping score." He snickered. He wasn't surprised that she had matches in the least, he'd been thinking more of a lighter but matches were funner. He looked up from the paper as she used a displeasured tone. He smiled slyly. "You have fun with that." He nodded. "Thank you."

SKipperino?)

Ye- to when shes leavin for the ball/gala thing?))

Yeas, you're doing most of the work I dunno where to start))