He watched her from the corner of his eyes as they continued the trek back to school trying to figure out just what to say to her - not a problem he'd really ever encountered with her, or any girl for that matter. A need to impress her with his every word and every move and every, well, everything now gripped him and he was sure that the feeling would drown him had she not suddenly plucked out a toad, pulled off a leg and offered him the toad while asking which part he ate first.

"Naw, I'm not a big toad person. Or frog for that matter. It always bothered me how they'd hop about in the stomach. And peppermint," he made a slight face, "always makes me feel a little sick to my stomach as it is."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, though he couldn't quite put a finger on just why he did. Quickly, he picked up the discussion, likely only digging a deeper hole.

"It's only that me grandmum's house always smelled so strongly of it; as if she'd poured peppermint all over her house, saturated it and the like, just before we'd get there to visit. And then she would bowl cabbage in the kitchen for hours and the mix of smells, it was like as much to turn the stomach."