After leaving the festive chaos of the cafeteria behind, Lise and I made our way back to the dorms, the cool night air a welcome reprieve after the heat of the crowded dining hall.
The path was lit by jack-o'-lanterns glowing faintly, their faces grinning mischievously in the dark. Lise, still stubbornly in her deflated chicken costume, waddled beside me, her arms swinging lazily.
"You know," I said, casting a sidelong glance at her, "you're surprisingly comfortable in that thing. It's almost disturbing how much you've embraced it."
"It's called commitment," Lise replied, puffing out her chest—or at least as much as she could in the suit. "If I'm going to be a chicken, I'm going to be the best chicken."
I laughed, shaking my head. "You're ridiculous."
"And you love it," she teased, bumping her shoulder against mine.
"Sure," I said, rolling my eyes, but the grin tugging at my lips betrayed me.