Regardless of Weather [PTX-Kavi]

Wind II - A Matter of When [The Last Supper]

A/N: I apologise in advance. I don't know what came over me, but this piece decided its own fate. THANK YOU FOR OVER 3.3K READS!!! It's so crazy, guys! Thank you thank you thank you :) 

Warning: Some swearing (I've been binge watching Pewdiepie a lot this week, so I blame that XD) and suggestive thematic material. Also, you won't believe how much research I had to do  for this one haha. 

PART II - The Last Supper 

"Hi, my name is Mitch Grassi, and I'm twenty-seven."

"I'm Kirstie Maldonado, twenty-seven."

"Kevin Olusola, thirty-one."

"Avi-uh-Avriel Kaplan, thirty."

"I'm Scott Hoying, and this is fucking stupid."

Scott couldn't put a finger on who had come up with this brilliant idea, but he had no idea what the point of it was. What was the point of reintroducing himself? It would be like repeating the past all over again. Sure, he had been mildly surprised when Kevin said he was thirty-one, but other than that, he wasn't overwhelmed by their changes in appearance and behaviour. Though there were plenty of those to pick from.

He poured himself another glass, letting the silence thicken between them all. The tinkling of silverware and laughter seemed to him like echoes from a distant planet outside their quickly-heating bubble. Like an alternate dimension panging in his ears yet failing to muffle the dull shrieks of his own reality. In their real reality of course, they were just five reluctantly (well, some of them) reunited former global sensations amidst the friendly gatherings of surrounding tables. They stuck out like sore thumbs, pursing their lips and averting gazes left and right, especially after Scott's bold declaration. 

A waitress approached them a while later, and Scott could see Kevin and Kirstie relax, visibly relieved and probably silently thanking the blonde young woman for saving them from the tension. Unlucky for them, she only stayed for a few seconds, distributing menus to them individually and smiling as she walked away. 

Scott was almost certain that Kirstie was going to grab the hem of the woman's dress and plead with her to stay- that was how desperate she looked. Instead, they all looked down at their cheap leather-bound menu cards and studied them carefully. Scott couldn't be bothered. 

He held his glass to his lips, and then, realising it was empty (already?), grabbed the bottle again. 

He could sense that the others were worried about just how sober he was (or wasn't, for that matter) and snorted. As if he didn't get enough judgement already. 

"So, what do you guys want to order?"

"The bruschetta looks good."

"I'll have the lasagna fritta."

"I personally think the Smoked Mozzarella Fonduta would make a good sharing plate."

"Who says we're sharing?", Avi asked dryly. 

"Well, we're trying to break the ice here, and sharing food seems like a good bonding exercise", Mitch shrugged, looking to Kirstie for some support. She nodded. 

"Do you have a problem with that?", she asked Avi, a little passively, and he looked back down. 

"...No. Of course not."

"Well then", Kevin clapped his hands together, "the fonduta, some lasagna fritta, and maybe some dipping sauce for the breadsticks. Is that good?"

A chorus of murmurs and nods sealed approval. Kevin nodded the waitress over. 

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