“Now be my good little bird and name me the most random fruit you can think of. The first thing that springs to mind.” I don’t even really think about it. I just speak. “Persimmon.” There’s a beat of silence. Rowan relaxes behind me, as though the pent-up tension in his chest has spirited away. “Yes. Persimmon. That’s an excellent idea, love.”
What the FUCK is persimmon
