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Health & Beauty

Poloxamer 407? What the hell?

Emma turns the carton over, scrunching her nose at the shiny packaging. 

“Swan?” 

She puts down the box, picks up another. Carrageenan? “Hmmmm?” 

“Swan?” Louder, this time.

“Killian,” she sighs, deep, long-suffering “For the last time. I am not buying you anymore Nutella.”

“No, love. What use does one have for,” he pauses to look at the container in his hand, “Trojans?”

The thud of the toothpaste carton hitting the tile floor echoes through the grocery store, and Emma feels her mouth gape open and shut.

Looking for all the world like he is perusing the latest issue of The Economist, there is Hook, standing in the middle of the Health & Beauty aisle in his leather jacket, intently reading the back of a box of condoms.

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