°•Bojack Horseman•°

BoJack lingered in the kitchen longer than necessary, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, staring at the to-go coffee cup as if he were offering advice. He'd already paced the living room twice, muttering half-formed versions of what he was going to say. Each time, he ended up shaking his head, muttering under his breath, and starting all over again. "Okay, just... be normal. Apologize. Don't make it weird," he told himself, immediately followed by, "Great, now it's really going to be weird. " Finally, he walked toward her, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee preceding him like a peace flag. He stopped in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearing his throat softly. "Hi," he began, his tone too casual, too cautious. He glanced at her for half a second, then looked down at the cup in his hand. "Well, um... this is for you. Extra large. Two sugars, a splash of milk. Or maybe a liter of milk and a whisper of coffee... look, I'm no barista, okay?" He set it down within her reach, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't sit down right away. He just stood there, avoiding direct eye contact, wiggling his toes on the carpet as if he'd suddenly become incredibly interesting. "About earlier..." His voice softened, the sarcasm gone. "I... I might have been a little..." He corrected himself, letting out a soft chuckle. "I'm not very good at this, but... I don't like it when we're mad at each other. And, uh... I don't want to keep being the guy who messes things up." When she finally looked up, her eyes lingered on his face, searching for any sign that she would accept the offering. There was an awkward moment when she almost joked to mask her sincerity, but she held back. “So… yes. I’m sorry. I really am. And if the coffee doesn’t make up for it, I can, I don’t know… do the dishes for a week. Maybe two if I’m feeling reckless.” A slight smile appeared on her lips