Logs:Of Tacos and Transitions (Or, A Life Spent Waiting)

Of Tacos and Transitions (Or, A Life Spent Waiting)
Dramatis Personae Kavalam, Nanami	2024-06-16 "Actually, fo real, look who your friends are."
Location <NYC> Washington Square Park - Greenwich Village
in Paris, this beautiful green space is a popular destination for the young, the hip, and the artistic. A huge circular wading fountain is the centerpiece, ringed by benches, playgrounds, dog runs, gaming tables, and lush green lawns. In fair weather, the park is almost always crowded with tourists, students, chess enthusiasts, and local families come to tire out their children and dogs. The heat of the day is fading to a pleasantly mild evening. It's not quite dark yet, and the park is still crowded with people enjoying the last gasps of the weekend sun. Nanami is perched on the edge of the fountain, in extremely wide-legged jean shorts that end several inches below her knees, very stompy black and pink boots, a pink crop tank under a grey Xavier's hoodie. She has a slim vape in her hand, purplish-pink and covered in white graffiti-style hearts, and she's flicking one nail (gleaming with fresh negative space pink-and-nude French tips) against the top button without actually pressing it. Kavalam is sitting beside her -- who knows for how long, but the birria tacos on his lap are still quite hot. He puts one of the takeout trays on Nanami's lap, poaching the vape for himself. He does click the top, peering at the lights suspiciously as it starts to heat. "How long does this take. The tacos line was so much longer than I thought. I cannot spend all my life waiting." "Hundred, two hundred years, then pau. Best get comfy, braddah." Nanami opens the lid of her birria, inhaling with a look of pleasure. It immediately shifts to a critical frown. "No drinks?" "Line for the bubble tea it's even longer. So many gays in this neighborhood and not a one of them can make a decision." Kavalam is setting the second container to the side. The last one left on his lap has nopales and mushroom tacos, which he's adding a generous splatter of hot salsa to. "Gaétan will come eventually. Once we are all grey." "Only gonna get worse by the end of the month. You'll have to be designated..." Nanami trails off here. She's eying Kavalam as she dips her taco into its sauce. "Actually, fo real, look who your friends are. One day you look back and think wow, my hanabata days I wen think I'm such a good ally, maybe there some other reason one hundred percent my guys gay af." "Wrong," Kavalam says, emphatically. "I never pretend to be some ally, I never set Future Kavalam up for these silly-silly realizations when he has settled down in Jersey City with some simblan doctor with a cricket bat like this." He's maybe trying to hold his hands up to indicate the length and girth of this instrument but has to abort this gesture when all the nopales starts spilling out of his taco. "Eugh." He's taking a hasty puff from the vape now that it has (two hundred years later) heated enough, and then passes the vape back to Nanami so that he can shovel some of his taco fillings back into the taco. He takes another appreciative bite, even if he is now frowning at the nopales-mushrooms miscegenation going on in the other tacos in his tray. "You know Harm is very single now, if you want one gradual transition from your straightsona." Nanami snorts. Takes the vape back, takes a puff. "Nah. You think Harm want to jump back in the dating pool after that crazy-ass any more than I..." She trails off here, though. Takes a longer drag, blowing smoke up to the sky. "Guess you and my sister done-done too, eh?" Kavalam does not answer this. He shoves the rest of his taco into his face. "Eugh." This is probably not at the tacos, which he's been enjoying well enough. It's also probably not at the busker (skinny, white, matted rat-tail dreads hanging down against their guitar) across the circle who he's currently glaring at, despite his follow-up: "Quality of the busking here gone very downhill in recent years." "If it help," Nanami holds the vape back out, "you not the only one she wen forget about." Kavalam takes the vape, clutching it tight in his fist. His hand drops to his knee once, then again, in absent heavy thump. He slumps down to the next lower stair, leaning back against the base of the fountain and staring up at the sky as he takes another puff.