"I like your shirt, man! I love the Chilli Peppers." Ricky’s smiled stayed even as he spoke, and he offered his hand shortly after.

Ricky looked a little surprised, but he smiled ever still.

Don’t you?

[Ricky leaned back a little, looking up at her with slightly widened eyes. He made a little 'oof' noise when she poked his stomach, and he rubbed his abdomen as he spoke.]

She looked it over real close. With a scrutinizing eye. She was deep enough still in the underworld to know a fake when she saw one. Knowing the minuscule tells for a fake. Which made her  a bitch as bar security. Not finding any, she held it back out. Grunting a nod. He’s twenty-one.

Taking the card back, he put it back into it's place in his carefully-crafted duct-tape wallet, something he'd made in his own free time. Which didn't add to his maturity, but she'd already seen the proof.

…

He was in a fit of laughter by now, but he pulled out his ID and showed her anyways. And there it was; Ricardo Agustin Francesca, twenty-one years of age as of last December. But even his ID picture looked like a school photograph, due to the goofy smile on his face and braces on his teeth. Regardless, his ID was legitimate. "I'm an organ donor, too, if you're wondering." 

"Can’t say I know too many garage bands in around own, but there should be a few. If you were old enough, I’d say go hang around a few bars." Not entirely witting of his aging situation yet. Can’t really go around the norms asking ‘hey, you as old as you look’? Nah. Gotta play a game of probability.

Ricky gave a laugh at that, but it was lighthearted. 

"Suppose so." Devang didn’t have a lot of opinion on any of her names other than the middle one. And the middle one was being used never if she had any control over it. Which she certainly did.

"Oh, uh, right now I'm working in an organic foods store. Kinda lame, I know, but it pays the bills. And they give me discounts. For now at least. I'm really looking for a band to play in, to be honest." Ricky nodded in agreement with himself, wondering if Devang played anything. She didn't exactly look the type, but Ricky didn't judge people based on appearance.

Twenty one?

Eeeeeyup. 

"I like your shirt, man! I love the Chilli Peppers." Ricky's smiled stayed even as he spoke, and he offered his hand shortly after.

"Ha." Ricardo. "Good name." The hand went back to her hip to rest for now. Previous dry, brief, laugh more to do with history than present. So not worth lingering on. "Ricky it is, though."

"Heh, thanks," He kicked the ground a little, smiling to himself for a moment. 

Caught her on a day without her gloves. Ah, well. She forgot and he didn’t seem to be freaking out so—Whatever. Have a hand shake. A firm one before she let it go in a well practiced motion. She did a lot of that.

Politely letting go, Ricky gave a small nod and smiled before answering her.

[She was pretty regularly upset about SOMETHING or other. But a random kid who’d just gotten lost was not usually on her list of ‘earthshattering things to be upset about’. So she eventually let out a bit of steam via her nose. Let her expression fall into something duller.]

[Giving a small nod, he agreed with her statement. Looking around, he saw the run-down buildings that looked like they hadn't been up-to-code longer than he'd been alive.

There’s an inherent need in Devang to come back with a snarky response. Automatic and dry humored. Ultimately friendly, mildly casually irritated, by ultimately friendly. It’s right there.

Giving a bit of a relieved sigh, Ricky is physically calmed after hearing her reply. He knew it could have gone much worse, and that she could have been offended, but he thanked his lucky stars that she seemed okay with it. 

[He tensed up a little, fearing that he upset her. She did not look like someone that someone of his size should be messing with, that was for sure.]