#dante001

for task#004 — randomizer #1.

Leo flatters herself that over the course of her considerable lifetime, she has probably spent more time in church than any other human ever has. She goes once a week at least, and particularly in the last few weeks she has gone more often. More for personal reflection than the sermons, at this point, because…

“Is it true Foster had, like a mental breakdown or something?” CJ asked as soon as they were shown their table, eyes locked in on Dante with a mischievous glint in his eye. He knew things turned to shit when Phoebe showed up to the apartment last month, looking wrecked and sleep-deprived, demanding where Seb was, demanding what they knew about Tefi. CJ had felt super bad about keeping it from her, and despite her smallness and affinity for ,like, boy bands and shit, Phoebe Yates was terrifying. So he spilled his guts, and then got on the first flight out of Illinois for a bit, visiting his cousins back in Seattle for a couple of weeks, until the gym got wind he kept skipping work, and returned so he didn’t get fired.

Safe to say, he wasn’t tuned in on the gossip of what happened next. So, when he and Dante arranged for their next meet up, he knew the exact perfect place. “You gotta tell me the truth man, lying makes angels cry or something.” He shrugged, taking a large gulp of the complimentary tap water, as if he never had access to it in his entire life.

Since moving to town, Magda hadn't had much of an opportunity to explore how it was as a community. She also didn't know what to expect from its Pride celebrations, but despite only being in the crowd for not long, her expectations had well and truly been exceeded.

The energy was infectious, and by the time the Mic Drop! karaoke truck rounded the corner, the people on the float belting away and encouraging the crowd to join in, Magda was all but giddy. "Oh I love this song!" She announced to the young man beside her.

Sama had reset her watch when she landed in New York, but she still kept doing the math in her head, converting the time on her wrist to the time in Geneva, the time her body was used to. It was 3pm, which meant it felt it was 9pm, well past the time Sama usually put pleasantries to bed and got to work in the privacy of her apartment. But here she was surrounded by strangers, people who wanted to talk to her about Richard and expected her to be polite and sad. It was all so performative, and while Sama could perform with the best of them, she’d been awake far too long to still be putting up with this sort of nonsense. 

So she found herself in need of something to get her through the rest of the wake. She needed, and she couldn’t believe she was thinking this, something to take the edge off. Normally, Sama liked the edge. Not in the way an adrenaline junky did, but she liked when tensions were high or a topic was important or she was coming up on a deadline. Today was different, and she wasn’t as concerned with the why as with the fact of it. What mattered was, just then, she didn’t want to feel like a live wire. 

Sama had been offered a drink more than once because she needed to ‘chill out.’ Such offers were universally met with disdain, mainly on principle, but now it felt like a good idea. She’d thought it a wise decision when Mrs. Tristan established a dry wake, but she was beginning to reconsider. A solution presented itself when Sama caught sight of Dante lingering at the edge of the tables. 

She made her way over to him with the hard-eyed and quick stepped air that left no room for interruption. “I know you have a flask.” She slid into the seat next to him and held out her hand. “Share.”