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Things Chuchi'd never miss about living in four million tons of white bullshit:
4. Slipping on ice.
5. Snow tires.
6. Insulating windows.
It was still kinda baffling to him that anyone would choose to live here. Like, how did they even advertise this place? One half of the year your balls were freezing off, the other half it was barely jeans and t-shirt weather. What was the point?
Didn't matter. Only way Chuchi got out the house this time of year was by going straight to someplace else for cover, else he wound up speaking slow as molasses. (A snake that don't do well in cold weather. HA. Who would've thunk it?) So, after five years he'd scoped out all the joints good enough to chill in; anywhere that stayed hot enough for his sorry ass to sit in for a couple of hours. Cafes, coffee shops, restaurants, bars, nightclubs. He knew them. He also knew how to get to them faster than that racist mouse people used to love.
What was his name again?
Speedy Gonzales. That was it. Motherfucker used to wear a sombrero, run around everywhere screaming ÁNDALE! ÁNDALE!
Right now, Chuchi was shouting nothing like that. If anything, he was screaming MÁS DESPACIO. Slower, slower, slow! Sat in the window of the Snow Cream Cafe, basking in the sun, he didn't have a care in the world. He was free till morning, busy only telling his conductores where to go. Headphones in, his phone in one hand and his cappi-frappi-whatever in the other, Chuchi was gazing out the misted over window, watching a hell of a lot of nothing happen way too slow. It was Sunday and the cafe was bustling, all the tables and chairs taken by all the peeps crazy enough to brave the snow. Last one in the place was opposite him, in full glare. Nobody had taken it, yet. He doubted anyone would.
After this he was gonna hit up the dispensary, spend the rest of the day hitting the green, ready to start the whole game over tomorrow.
Chuchi sighed, fell back in his seat, and thanked God for his fur coat.
It became rather clear quickly that there were no open tables for him to sit in. That worked out fine for him, but he knew many people seemed to be a bit unsure about letting a complete stranger just sit beside them. Besides, most of the tables seemed to be filled to compacity. A huff escaped his nose as his eyes scanned the area for any place that he could sit. He finally found a man that was still huddled in his fur coat, despite how warm it was inside, sitting by himself. The man was sitting there alone, but he did not have any work in front of him, nor did he look like he was obsessively checking his phone to have someone just show up.
So, with that, Rhys started to make his way towards the man. As far as Rhys was aware, the worse that could happen was the man told him to fuck off, which would just cause him to shrug and walk away.
Not his problem.
He soon came up to the table and flashed a quick smile and pointed towards the seat. "Hey, would you mind if I took the seat and sat here with you?" he asked, deciding it would just be better to ask. "I can share some of the muffin if you want it?" he added in, not too sure if the man would actually take it. It wasn't like Rhys wasn't used to sharing being in a wolf pack- not that the man knew that about him.
Rhys shifted on his feet, trying to stay still as he patiently waited for an answer, already thinking of where else he could go to sit and eat if he needed to. Could always carry his muffin somewhere else, but that just seemed awkward.
Chuchi saw Rhys decide. It was kinda magical like that, being a snake. Something about the way he stood in the corner of Chuchi's eye, 'bout the way his heat fluctuated, and Chuchi knew he had company. Thing was, he couldn't let the company know he already knew.
Life was like that, weren't it?
Still, it was boring pretending to look out the window. Better just to get it over with. Chuchi counted down—gave the man couple of seconds to cross the threshold, all that jazz—then he clocked him. Took in his new company; skinny, green hair, carrying one of those bitching muffins on a plate. Chuchi was still staring at the muffin as the guy said his piece. Last minute he propped his hand up under his chin, made out like he was listening and wasn't just gonna say yes for the entertainment.
Then he huffed, loud, a rush of breath, and shook his head. "Naw, dawg. Just sit down. I don't need no muffin."
He waited for the guy to move before cutting in, his hand already out to take the plate:
"'Cept, I will be having some of that muffin."
He took the plate. Like hell was Chuchi ever gonna turn down food. Turning down food was for fools. He'd make it fair, though. He found the knife he'd been using earlier, wiped it, and took his share; a third. A third was good, right?
He gave the plate back and kept his piece, slumping into his chair and gaving the man another look over. Chuchi's arms fell open, hand out, welcoming. "What's up? What's your name?" Chuchi smiled, waved a hand to his own chest. "I'm Chuchi. I hate the cold but I like muffins. What's the flavour?"
It seemed Rhys assumed the guy would let him know if he did not want him to sit there because h did not second guess the man. He watched as the male took his muffin after saying he did not need a muffin and arched an eyebrow to that. The young male looked like he was about to open his mouth to say something to him when the other added in that he will be having the muffin.
He snorted a bit and shook his head, a rather large grin posted on his face as he seemed to appreciate the other's humor. "Fair." he snorted.
As the man took the knife to his muffin, Rhys reached for his own coffee and sipped on it and watched as the man cut into his muffin. He had meant it when he said that the man could have a bit of his muffin. Why get all upset when the man followed through?
"Nothing much. Just got a muffin.""My name's Rhys. Nice to meet you." he answered, already putting his hand out to shake it. He nodded his head a bit at the description and shrugged before letting his eyes go to the fur coat that the stranger was sporting. It was more than a bit obvious that the man hated the cold. Hell, even being inside, the man was wearing a rather thick jacket.
"Clearly." he hummed before taking his muffin back and starting to rip the top part of the muffin off before starting to eat the bottom half of the muffin first. "Coffee cake. The best kind.Always good." he responded, flicking his fingers just a bit to let the crumbs go back on the plate. "Though blueberry is a close second." he added before starting to take a bite out of the muffin.
Chuchi took it, gave it a couple pumps. He got taught how to shake by the guy who taught him to read. The secret was making sure you had power. Same way Chuchi always did. Grip a little tight, make sure they know they're dealing with someone who don't take shit. Chuchi grinned. "Rhys." There was no chance in hell he was gonna be writing that on paper anytime soon. Rees? Rice? Riis?
White people never had easy names.
He caught the look. That dip of his company's eyes down to the coat.
Time to nip that in the bud.
Chuchi arched an eyebrow, muffin still in hand, stared Rhys right in those big blue eyes. "You think the coat's too much." Way Chuchi's face looked, you'd think his mama just been killed. This was serious, all hard lines and a tight mouth. "Fam, you gotta be willing to sweat for style," Chuchi leant forward in his seat, arms on the table, earnest as earnest can be, "you hearing me?" Didn't matter if he had, man kept going anyway. "You wanna get wavy, you need to sacrifice. No virgins or that, just dollar, time," Chuchi smiled, "sweat." He sat back in his seat, satisfied, peeling the casing offa his bit of muffin. Only on second thought he looked up, clocked Rhys' hairstyle and added: "An' ain't no telling me you don't know 'bout style. Look atchu. Your head greener than the grass next door."
Now what'd said this muffin was? Coffee?
Chuchi popped it in his mouth, started chewing. Two bites in and he knew he liked it. How old was he? Two centuries and no coffee cake. How the hell was he still alive?
Still chewing, Chuchi turned back to Rhys, pointed to his mouth. "This," he said, minding the crumbs, "this is good muffin." He took a look over the room; some peeps warm, some cold. All minding their own business. "Better than that blueberry shit."
He could appreciate that type of attitude. "I guess. I personally think the fur would tickle me too much, but hey, you pull it off." he grinned as he scooted his chair a bit closer to the table and then tried to find a comfortable spot somewhere between the table and the person who had just pushed their chair out just a little too far. Oh well.
"I mean, I guess a fur coat is better than sacrificing virgins." he added with an amused grin. It made sense in its own way. Besides, Chuchi certainly seemed rather amusing and certainly had a good sense of humor. If nothing else, he had a fun way of explaining himself, which was something that Rhys could always appreciate.
When Chuchi commented on his hair, Rhys lifted on hand up and gave it a slight pat before offering a bit of a shrug in response. "Fair. Most seem to think it looks stupid, but I think it is a bit of fun. Sort of something different." he explained, glad that someone out there could appreciate the way that his hair looked. "I am thinking of going a darker green next time though, I 'm not exactly sure." he hummed, talking more to himself than the man in front of him. Chuchi did not seem like the kind who would be too bothered by such things anyway, though he could be wrong.
"Really? You never had one before? Man, this shit is good and just- wow. Tell me you have at least had a pumpkin spice one with cream cheese filling. Please." he begged, looking Chuchi over as though he would have to somehow try to fix that issue right at that moment if he had not.
Least the man could take a compliment. Chuchi crammed the last of the muffin in his mouth, shook his head as he sat back in his chair, fingers wrapped round a napkin. "That shit ain't stupid, it's dope." For real, Chuchi wished he could do the whole crazy hair thing. He ended up looking ratchet as all hell. He'd tried it in the 90s, made him look like a low budget SisQó. "You like one of them frogs in the forest or something," Chuchi smiled, "all like 'don't mess with me, I''ll kill you'." When he was a kid, those suckers were everywhere, used to hear 'em hollering late into the night. Got one under your foot, it shrieked like all hell while you died. ''Cept you don't haveta scream, you get me?"
Chuchi waved his hand, excused that li'l thought to make way for another. "Anyway, go blue, bruh," he looked to Rhys, raised them brows, got his mouth straight, all deadpan. "Bring out those eyes, know what I'm saying?"
Like, damn. You got blue eyes, might as well work with it.
Back to muffins. Chuchi's new company might as well be talking in code. Pumpkin Spice? Cream cheese? "JA!" Chuchi laughed, swallowed the last of his muffin, rapped his knuckles on the table top. "That flavor all them white chicks go crazy for? Nah, man," he heard about that through SnapChat and Imgur and Instagram; all those new things everybody glued to, taking pictures of every motherfucker crossing their path. Chuchi shook his head. "Ain't had a muffin before that ain't chocolate or blueberry." He glanced out, cross the cafe and all those hot bodies and drinks and coffee machines. His mouth twitched, threatened a grin, as his gaze fell on the cake stand.
Chuchi was hungry. Always was, just before Rhys had sat down, he'd forgotten.
"Why, they do that here? You want some?"
"I can be pretty loud though. Don't they usually come in like, brighter colors like red and blue and stuff? I dunno, never been there. Didn't know they screamed."he admitted as he laughed at the image. "You talking about the poison dart frogs?" he asked before he started to pull the bottom part of the muffin apart and put it in his mouth, looking up at Chuchi to see if he was thinking of the right animal. He laughed at the idea of doing it blue, pulling down on the bangs so he could see the lime green color before looking over at him. "Blue? That is the first time I have been suggested that color. Will have to consider it." he decided before letting go of the strand of hair and letting it bounce back up a bit.
"Yeah, but dude, they go crazy for it for a reason. it's amazing. But no, they don't got it here now. Its a seasonal item type thing. " he rolled his eyes, clearly a bit disappointed in that. Still, he did not seem to stop smiling as he tore another part of the muffin to push into his mouth and look around the rather crowded place. He did not seem overly concerned about those around him before he stretched himself and leaned his chair just a bit back, careful to not hit anyone as he did so. "You don't like trying new things?" he asked once his chair was put back down on four legs, tilting his head a bit to the side. It was something important to learn so he knew if he should not suggest new things to the now no longer a stranger guy he was sitting by.
For real, though, Rhys be looking like one of those. Nigga just needed some spots.
Chuchi's hands beat the table, thumped out a rhythm. No food to distract him, now. He smiled as Rhys took his advice. "You do it, you gotta give me credit." It were his idea. He should be getting the praise, a'ight? That's how that shit worked. Chuchi's head tipped, his hands out in front and twirling, twirling, twirling. "Be all 'yeah, man, this dope ass guy Chuchi told me, go get that shit'."
The smile vanished pretty quick. "Seasonal?" Chuchi rounded on the cake stand, hand clutched to the arm of his chair. Yeah, didn't look like there were anything there but the usual. Chuchi clucked, rolled his eyes.
It were probably for the best. He needed that real food, none of this janky baked shit. Needed some meat. Proper meat. Shame hunting season were well and truly over, less he wanted to lose his balls an' turn to an icicle.
Chuchi sniffed. "I like new things fine," he said, leaning back proper. He tugged open his jacket, looked at all the droplets running down the damn window. "But I got a sensitive stomach, you know?" That were a goddamn lie. Chuchi had a fine stomach, just all the shit he were poisoned by liked to pop up in fancy restaurant meals. "Some shit don't agree with me, an that shit gets into food all the time."