Who Shall Pay?

"So," Addam says, and Shulk is immediately feeling apprehensive about the fact that he doesn't know whether to be cheered or scared by that opening. "Lovely weather, isn't it?"

They're sitting outside, so the comment isn't exactly bird-brained, but Egil wouldn't quite call it "lovely" weather - if that's what Addam calls the phenomenon of it not raining when it had been predicted to, at least a measly ten percent chance, but still looking about as gray as his hair (or, alternately, Egil's face), then he's an optimist the likes of which they've never met and probably never will.

Minoth, sitting next to him, doesn't look as cheery. He doesn't look dour, no, but if the rain, or the thunder, anyway, were to emanate from somewhere directly among the two of them, Shulk placed an easy bet on it being the one with the ponytail.

Shulk coughs, sips his water. "Yes," Egil supplies for him, "it is...serviceable."

A terrific start, they're off to.

Egil can feel Shulk's knee bumping against him, signaling both a great many of their shared thoughts on the pair sitting across from them and a little mild affection. It's like holding hands without holding hands, and the creativity is not lost on either of them.

Now Minoth speaks up; he'd hardly said more than a not-quite-gruff "hi" or two before, so when his voice is a rich tenor cut by intriguing angles at all ends, Shulk finds himself instinctively leaning in to hear it better (not that he needs to, but you know).

"Whose idea was this," his hand waves in haphazard circles, appraisingly, "anyway?"

Oh. Not good. Shulk feels Egil's knee bump his now, a reminder not to be daunted by this strange turn of events before them. Addam doesn't look affronted, for either himself or the guests opposite him, so that'll have to be a good sign.

"Fiora," Egil says in answer, precisely at the same moment that Addam offers, "Flora."

Everyone blinks, at that.

"Do we share a common acquaintance, then?" He'd heard the names Minoth Castigo and Addam Origo in passing, from some friend or other (perhaps through Sharla, through Vanea?), but had never thought they'd have this few degrees of separation between them. Could he possibly have heard Addam right?

Addam tilts his head to the side, and Minoth seems to smirk as he watches. Maybe he knows what's going on; Shulk certainly doesn't.

"I don't know. Is it possible we heard each other wrong?"

"It is possible," Egil admits. Now Shulk and Minoth are on the same wavelength, because obviously the mystery would be solved that much faster if they just said the names again, separately!

"Well, that'd be brilliant."

"Indeed it would."

"Addam..." Minoth warns, almost in uncanny sync with Shulk reaching across Egil's lap to squeeze his hand, tap his fingertips against the bottom of his boyfriend's nails, anything silly like that.

It is silly, isn't it? A ridiculous exchange to be having, but everyone has their hangups with communication sometimes. Goodness knows he and Egil have had theirs, over the months, now years.

So Minoth clears his throat. "We got sent here by Flora - that's with an L. Egil, if I heard you right, your overly peppy friend is named Fiora. Similar, but still different. Now, are we clear?"

Egil has to draw his hand out of Shulk's to stifle a laugh. "In a way, yes, but that doesn't solve the mystery of how our Fiora and your Flora know each other."

"Yes, why don't you tell us about her?" Shulk cuts in, eager to hear about chance connections between people now that the pointless abstraction of the conversation has been laid aside.

Addam's face practically lights up at that. "Oh, well. She's been my friend since we were teenagers, and everyone thought we would get married, because our parents would somehow force our hands, but we never did. I still tell people she's my wife sometimes, though. Gets a laugh out of them."

Indeed: Shulk laughs at the very thing. "Sounds the same as me and Fiora, then! Her brother always thought we'd be perfect for each other, and we even dated for a while, but it just didn't work out. We're still the best of friends, though, and sometimes I even think she's closer with Egil than she is with me!"

Egil is content - more than content - to just sit and listen to his boyfriend talk, but he does spare a glance at Minoth, who doesn't seem to be bothered by the enthusiastic endorsements of this Flora, wife-not-wife, at all. Interesting. Even he will admit to comparing himself to Fiora, just a touch. Not very often, but he does think about it, from time to time.

He nods politely at Minoth, acknowledging their mutual plight, even though it seems to be a happy thing, and then promptly busies himself with the menu. He notices Addam doing the same, and Minoth looking mostly unbothered, until he very apparently notices that Addam will never be able to decide on a meal if left to his own devices.

The restaurant they're at is decidedly Alrestian, offering cuisine that seems to befit the kinds of climates Egil had never seen on the Bionis (of course, the Mechonis was sort of always notwithstanding, when it came to such matters, but Shulk's descriptions were always so colorful and enthusiastic that they more than made up for the lack in the many, many years since Egil had even been to Companion's Cape).

Ultimately, Egil decides on a salad with cherry tomatoes, shredded carrots, a salty-crumbly cheese, and a vinaigrette of oil and vinegar, with chicken over top. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Shulk poring laboriously over the dips section, before abandoning the fruitless pursuit and ordering a gyro with various small portions of dips on the side. Across the table, then, he sees Addam and Minoth now jointly focused on something at the very bottom of the entrées; he hears the word "potatoes" muttered and after a while various other references to beef, encountered at this other restaurant or that...he hopes they're having fun.

It's not that bad, really. Taking a sip of his lime-tinted seltzer, Egil thinks fondly that the encounter is like people-watching without people-watching, and after all he's sure Fiora and Flora never intended that the two pairs of them would become friends for life. In fact, since his hair is tied up out of his face in a bun, he's well-equipped to listen in on Addam eagerly regaling Shulk with tales of his friend Hugo's tinkering - who knew what would happen if the two of them got together? And, likely, Flora knows him too, so it'll surely end up being arranged.

Egil asks Minoth about his work. Minoth returns something nondescript about his pompous boss, you know the type. Egil doesn't, not exactly, because the type Minoth seems to be describing is a type Egil always ensured were his competitors, never those working directly above him, but he smiles anyway.

He takes another sip of his seltzer. There was worse company in the world, surely. With Shulk sitting next to him, anything is tolerable, and this occasion is...deserves more than just tolerable, he decides.

The meals come and pass in companionable silence, since Minoth has shown himself to be quite scrupulously not the type to talk with his mouth full and Shulk is either incredibly talkative or incredibly silent when he eats, and they agree to share a flaky, syrupy pastry for dessert.

And then the check comes. Egil reaches for his wallet in an instant, though he's allotted the proper amount of time not to seem tetchy about it, and then he sees Addam doing the same.

"Oh, no, it's no trouble. Allow me."

You don't trifle with Egil's patience. You just don't. There usually isn't anyone strong-willed enough to, anyway; even at something a little less than two meters, or a little more than six feet, tall, as he's estimated these men to be, you don't just...not be intimidated.

But Addam grins, foolishly. He really thinks he's doing them all a favor!

"No, no, this is one of our spots, let me take care of it."

(If it was one of their spots, then why'd they have so much trouble with the menu? Feeble pests.)

And then their hands are locked over top of the faux-leather receipt holder, and Shulk happens to know that Egil's hands are very, very cold, but also very, very likely to deliver static shock, especially if the other person is wearing any sort of ring or bracelet, so he can't help but giggle when Addam jerks his hand back and shakes it uselessly (Minoth grabs it before long).

Egil smiles indulgently, but lurking behind his eyes is the dreadful suspicion that these two men are just the type to end up bungling the affair the next time they meet. Well, maybe Minoth's not. He pulls him aside in the parking lot to leave careful instructions about how let's just go bowling next time, please.