// —* WAVY ;

❝ why do i always see the weird shit when i’m with you? ❞ sage thought aloud, glancing over to her italian friend. she rested on the podium at the front of the restaurant, thumbing through worn-out menus and scanning prices.  sage preferred her pocket change went to halloween items worth spending money on - alcohol, fake blood, birthday presents. ❝ if i ever spent my hard earned money on a costume like that, please kill me. ❞

elijah sat at the bar of the pizzeria with his fifth long island planted firmly between his finger tips, he had had a long day at work so it didn’t take him long to get buzzed off of a few strong cocktails and as always he was looking to have some fun with his few hours of spare time. his eyes shot up at the closest person to him. his usual cocky grin spreading across his lips. ‘‘hey my magical watch says you aren’t wearing any underwear….It must be an hour fast.’‘ he muttered in a soft slightly slurred voice as he held back a laugh.

sage's beer bottle twirled in her hands. it was that time of year when school and work took their own shifts kicking her ass for sport. as she took a slow sip from her treasured corona, her brown eyes met the blue ones next to her. that grin meant some overconfident white boy would try his luck. ❝ you think your cute little pick up lines are gonna work on me? ❞ she scowled, getting an all-too-familiar scent of a long island iced tea. ❝ a lil heavy on the spirits there, peter pan? ❞

“You know, you could save the delivery fee and just walk downstairs to pick up your pizza.” freddi raised a brow holding the pie against her hip. “spend it on some garlic knots or something”

shuffling to the front door, sage had just barely woken up in time to pick up her delivery. greasy malnati’s pizza, as always, was her perfect hangover remedy. ❝ i think i'd owe a whole lot more than a delivery fee if i went outside with no pants. how much do i owe you? ❞ she asked, wondering whether or not she’d regret blowing so much money on takeout so early in the week.

“ah but here’s a better fact. did you know portuguese people have about 1000 ways to cook cod? all different, it’s like you could eat a different meal with cod for almost 3 years. Now that’s quite appealing.”

sage was never a huge fan of fish. her tastebuds grew too accustomed to recipes only a haitian middle aged woman would know, or the food from the diner down the block that is about three late-night orders away from naming a pancake platter after her. the girl’s nose turned up at the thought of cod. not enough syrup. not as versatile as the egg or potato. ❝ if only i liked cooked cod, ❞ she said, flashing the chef a look of mock pity. ❝ got any recipes involving booze? or foods of the breakfast variety? ❞