Logs:Of Alcohol and Annoyances (Or, Roommate Normalcy)

Of Alcohol and Annoyances (Or, Roommate Normalcy)
Dramatis Personae Gaétan, Kavalam
In Absentia	2024-06-14 "We --"
Location <NYC> Gaétan and Nanami's Apartment - Greenwich Village
It's not that late, but it's definitely late for dinner. Gaétan has a heavy armload of takeout, though, as he enters the apartment, together with a case of hard pear ciders. He shucks his shoes off by the door and makes a kind of desultory effort at pushing them with one foot in the direction of the shoe rack, considering the job done Well Enough when one of them ends up underneath it. After this he's trudging in to set the food on the kitchen counter, fixing himself a bowl of rice and bok choy and pickled daikon radishes together with a roast chicken breast. He's making his way to the living room to flop down on the couch, setting his bowl on the table and his drink on a coaster. The couch is occupied, of course. Has been occupied, though Gaétan is only noticing it just now. Kavalam has gotten comfortable, in jeans and an orange tee. His laptop is hooked up to the television and he's just paused *Hades 2*. He's poached Gaétan's bowl and dragged the drink closer, but now he's just frowning at the chicken in disapproval. "Why are you Yanks like this. Dark meat is *much* tastier.*" "Onnu podey," Gaétan grumbles as he snatches his bowl back; it's somewhat performative given that he's getting up to return to the kitchen and make up a second bowl. "Nami likes the dark better. Thought I'd save it." Behind his glasses, Kavalam's eyes crinkle in warm amusement at this grumbling -- for a second this grows more pronounced when Gaétan gets up, but this falls into a brief frown. He's muttering to himself in quiet Malayalam, "{You are so like your brother.}" He was starting to pilfer Gaétan's drink, too, but now he pushes the coaster back where it was. He turns to face the kitchen, pulling his legs up onto the sofa. He glances toward Nanami's door with a small huff. "You really think she will get up and eat it?" "Huh?" Gaétan has exhausted the limits of his Malayalam knowledge with this borrowed grousing. He looks to his (actual) roommate's door, too. His shoulder hitches, and he's taking out a second bowl, preparing two servings now (both with dark meat). He gets a second cider, too, before returning to the living room. He sets one of the bowls down in front of Kavalam, together with the cider. "With a reminder, I guess." He doesn't sit, instead leaning against the side of the couch with the last bowl still in hand. He's looking at the screen with interest. "Shit, I haven't had time to get around to this one." "I said you are terrible. One mooshettha only. That's one annoying bugger so you know." Kavalam takes the bowl, tweaking off a small scrap of chicken with the edge of his spoon and scooping it together with some of the veggies into his mouth. "-- deadly roast this is, where you got it from." He's setting the bowl aside, though, to pick up the second cider. "You should try it. You work too much," he tips the neck of the bottle toward the bedroom door. "She works too little. Really I'm the only well-adjusted one in this house." "S'a new Malaysian place in the East Village." Gaétan's brows furrow, a moment before he snorts. "Bruh, you don't fucking live here." "Rude. I spend more time here than you do." Kavalam picks up his controller, standing up so that he can exchange it with the last of the bowls in Gaétan's hands. "Do you not notice your food going. This," he's hefting the bowl now in his hands, "certainly will not be lasting, you had best to eat your fill tonight." He's slipping back, knocking several times sharply on Nanami's door before vanishing into it. It takes a short while before he emerges again. Gaétan has settled himself back down by the time Kavalam returns, controller in hand and a new game getting started. "Thought it was Nanami." His brows pinch, and he adds reluctantly, "Hoped it was Nanami." He's slouching back, exhaling heavily. He bops the controller light and absent against his knee. "Do you really? Spend that much time here? Doesn't seem that well-adjusted." "Rum has a lot of calories." Kavalam whumphs down on the couch and takes his bowl, now. He's jabbing repeatedly at the chicken to harry it off the bone before he takes another bite. "Don't be a fool. I am very fine in the head. Unfortunately I am not rich. And your brothers place it's getting a little too crowded now." He pulls himself back on the seat to get more comfortably settled, turning to watch the screen. "You have no idea anyway how hard it is to keep some steady job when --" He hesitates, stirring at his bowl. "-- your visa has full expired." "Seriously, that's the emptiest the house has ever been. Even Flèche is gone." Gaétan flicks another look to Kavalam. Brief. "Luci could probably help you figure that shit out. Your visa but also -- I mean, he's got mad contacts in media. Probably knows lots of places you could sell pictures without ever meeting another human." "Have you even looked for her?" Though most of the meat is off the bone, Kavalam is still jabbing at it. "Did you even look into --" He tightens his jaw hard, and exhales slowly. "Shari. I'll talk to him." "We --" Gaétan hesitates. His brow pinches in deep. He pulls his legs up under him and sets the controller on his knees, flicking slowly at its chrome-plated facing in silence.