paradisa | (no subject)

I kinda hoped I'd get stories about me being an old lady and grabbing your butt or something, maybe talking about missing my cats and looking for my dentures... maybe next time.

You, grabbing my butt? You do not even do that now.

I don't do that to taken men, but when I'm old I have an excuse. I'd be old.

You did not do that when I was a bachelor.

I don't do that to men whose name start with the letter E.

So you admit to discrimination!

Only with you. Shh, don't tell the authorities.

And get your fine self trapped in prison? I would not dare.

The sign of a true friend.

[Once they get back to his place, she'll go over and plop down on the sofa. Face down. Taking up as much space as she can. Woe. Life is full of woe. But his sofa is comfy.]

What would you like to eat?

[Muffled:] Spaghetti?

With what, bambina?

Meatballs. And tomato sauce.

Both meatballs and pasta are main courses.

[Pause.]

But I will do whatever makes you happy.

[So he starts putting together ingredients.]

Oh, huh. We just sorta toss them both together and cover them in tomato sauce.

[She rolls on her side so she can watch.]

I bet Asshole Me doesn't eat Italian food. She probably ate the hearts of small children.

I will make polpette di carne like my people make them, but we will put them in the pasta like yours.

[So he's pulling out eggs, and Romano cheese, and a whole variety of other things: salt, black pepper, garlic, olive oil, bread crumbs, parsley. He starts preparing all the ingredients.

Teasing:]

I hear they eat those in China, but you did not look like a Chinaman.

[She props herself up on some pillows to see better. Food is a good distraction from dwelling and sulking.]

Not even close.

So, help me think. What's a good gift for a "I'm sorry for breaking and entering" apology?

You broke a number of wine bottles, for one, so at the very least you must replace those.

[GROAN. She covers her face with a pillow.]

Her place is all fancy, too...

[Kneading ground pork in a bowl with the other ingredients.]

Perhaps you could work there to pay off your debts.

That might make Lana want to snap my neck more than she already does.

Why?

I don't do work like that well. There's a handful of things I'm good at, and waitressing, cooking, and cleaning are not on the list.

[He rolls his eyes. He won't say it, but women who cannot cook or clean still seem so ridiculous to him. He's a man and he can do it, it should be simple for her.]

You broke into her restaurant. Your talents are likely not a concern.

[Sigh.]

I'll see what she wants me to do.

Ezio

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