[OPEN]
WHO: Kristoph Gavin [myscarsmiles] and hopefully lots of others.
WHAT: Nothing in particular. It's an open thread. Get something to eat, chat with your friends. Go wild. No explosions, please.
WHERE: Un Morso Di Mangiare: A 24-hour diner: Vie Marsala and Via Aspromonte
WHEN: A couple of days after the fashion show: anytime, really! Just say when in the title ( Read more... )
WHAT: Nothing in particular. It's an open thread. Get something to eat, chat with your friends. Go wild. No explosions, please.
WHERE: Un Morso Di Mangiare: A 24-hour diner: Vie Marsala and Via Aspromonte
WHEN: A couple of days after the fashion show: anytime, really! Just say when in the title ( Read more... )
Lunch had been impossible to get in, with people pulling at him from all possible directions about lab tests, lab results, and open files that he received from the homicide department.
Dexter had spent his day almost drowning in blood and everything to do with it, and by this time, he was more than ready to get the food that his running-on-empty body needed.
By the time he got to the diner, it was so busy that most of the tables were completely full, except for the odd one here or there. The man stood and looked around, trying to judge how long he would have to wait for a seat, service, and then food. Glorious, warm, filling food.
When the waitress suggested to him that he sit at one of the less full tables, it made him slightly uncomfortable. However, the emptiness of his stomach won out over his reluctance to sit with a complete stranger and try to make conversation over his plate of steak and fries.
Dexter came to a stop next to a table, and glanced down, noticing an adolescent-looking boy who sat behind a menu that seemed quite large in his hands. Curiously, the boy had an animal's tail and ears. They looked very real and very alive, so he took a guess with his scientist's mind that they were probably the result of genetic tampering.
"...Mind if I sit here?" Dexter smiled, lifting his eyebrows. It was a kind smile, inquiring. "A waitress pointed me in your direction. Apparently, they've been sticking people together at tables all day."
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"Okay, I guess so," he replied with a small nod as he fidgeted with the menu. He was grateful when the waitress showed up to give them each a glass of water, but she was gone just as quickly.
Ritsuka peered over his menu to look at the stranger again and he relaxed a little upon seeing his kind smile. At least he was going to be sitting with someone friendly.
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"Place is really packed." He took a large drink of water, emptying almost half of the glass in one swallow before he looked around the place again. The man gave a soft, almost sigh of air, glancing at the menu. He knew what he wanted (protein, carbs, coffee, and to get out of here), and the look that he cast at the menu was purely out of artificial gesture. It looked entirely natural.
Dexter nodded at Ritsuka. "I'll be out of your hair as soon as they bring me a steak." A laugh. The crossing of tanned, well muscled arms under a plain long-sleeved button down shirt that has its sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
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He managed a smile when the man laughed as his tail flicked against the seat of the booth.
"It's okay," he paused and his ears folded back a little before he continued, "...What's your name?"
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"Dexter. Nice to meet you." The man watched the boy's ears move, amused by how they added to his expressiveness. They were like an added sign to read, as if his facial expressions and body language weren't enough indication.
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Ritsuka eyed Dexter's hand suspiciously at first, but he still shook his hand. Once they'd shaken hands and introduced themselves, though, Ritsuka seemed a bit more comfortable. He wasn't particularly fond of interacting with adults, but he knew that was something he'd have to get over if he wanted to find Soubi. For all he knew, Soubi was an adult as well.
Just then, the waitress came back to take their order and Ritsuka ordered some waffles since he hadn't actually eaten breakfast yet.
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After the woman left, he turned back to Ritsuka, his general air a pretty friendly one.
"You don't look like a native." It was true--Ritsuka didn't carry the wary, somewhat hardened look that most people who had lived in Reggio Calabria for at least a year would usually acquire.
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In those few days, it was already becoming quite clear to Ritsuka that Reggio Calabria was, by no means, a safe city to live in. He hated being here all alone, but he couldn't forget the words written in Seimei's will.
"I guess you live here...Have you been here long?"
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"To look for someone? Here?" His tone didn't pry, really, mostly just to make conversation.
Where was his meal, anyway?
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"Someone...Someone my brother knew. I only know his name, but I found a record of him in his city, so this is the best place to look." He lowered his gaze to the table, not wanting to look Dexter in the eye at this moment.
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"..sounds pretty tough." He appeared concerned, but he didn't keep trying to dig information out of the boy. Instead, he looked at the plates that were suddenly being put in front of them both.
And picked up his fork and knife, watching the boy. "But you're going to need all the energy you can get." And he pushes the waffles toward Ritsuka, lifting his eyebrows and smiling a bit.
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"...You're right. Thank you," he said with a determined nod before he speared a piece of waffle and popped it into his mouth.
Upon tasting the waffle, his ears perked up a little. He added little bit of syrup to his place, then continued eating.
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Once he was done, and they were both finished eating in silence, Dexter looked at the boy.
"Do you think you'll need any help?" It's not as if he's pushing his help on Ritsuka, but it's more like another conversation topic. He finishes his coffee, reaching for his wallet.
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"Yes. I know I'll need help," he shrugged, his hands out to the side , as his ears drooped, "I don't know enough people here and I only know his name, so..."
When Ritsuka sees Dexter reaching for his wallet, he digs around for his own. After a moment, he pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open so he could see how much money he had left.
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"If you end up needing a hand to track him down, you can come to the Antimafia Commission building. I work there, and if you give me his name, I'll be able to help you look."
He had noticed the boy's sense of innate independence along with his apparent general distrust, something that lingered on his surface like a scar.
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