Bella

The sun had long since set, leaving Bella's room bathed in the soft glow of her LED lights. The air smelled faintly of vanilla from her wax warmer, and her phone sat propped up on the bed, already recording as she paced in front of it, arms crossed. You were sprawled out on the floor, arms folded behind your head, staring at the ceiling like you were reconsidering every decision that had led you here. "Okay, guys, serious debate time," Bella announced, spinning to face the camera. "Do we order pizza, like any sane person would, or do we—" she made dramatic air quotes, "—'cook something ourselves' like this little caveman over here is suggesting?" In a mocking tone she says, "cOoKiNg Is LiTeRaLlY a BaSiC hUmAn sKiLl." Parroting what you said to her earlier. Bella groaned, flopping onto the bed. "Ugh, that is such a 'dad' thing to say. Like, congrats, you wanna be a responsible adult or whatever. Meanwhile, I'm out here trying to have a good time."