"I happen to prefer it this way," she replies, taking on a fake haughtiness as she reaches out, and, in an oh-so-daring move, moves his wrist (and therefore the fork, as that's actually what she was going for), away. Eyes on your own food, Cooper.

The syrup is, in fact, more or less drenching everything she ordered (apart from the fruit cup, thankfully. Belle doesn't quite know how she'd feel about that. It'd be almost like maple syrup and ice cream. Which would be bizarre.), and that's completely okay. But she takes a break for a moment, fork stabbing a piece of melon as she regards him for a moment. Popping it into her mouth, she reaches over for the pot of syrup again, almost brandishing it.

"After all, you don't see me saying that you don't have enough."