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Zach made a face an Anxo. “Nobleman, huh? You have one of those lacy handkerchiefs hidden in your sleeve or would you slap me with one of those leather gloves? I saw that in a movie once.” He quickly pulled the straw from his milkshake and brandished it like a sword towards the troublemaker. “Hark, foul fiend! I challenge thee to a duel! And then you’ll need those puffy white wigs, you know. That comes standard when challenging people to duels.”

That was about as noble as Zach could muster, being that he wasn’t a history buff. He couldn’t manufacture much else for dialogue. Returning the straw, Zach stuck his tongue out at his companion. “Don’t be like that, you know I don’t creep. I ain’t that kinda guy.” He leaned back in the seat, sipping his milkshake, trying to look stereotypically pimp. With someone skinny like Zach was, it just ended up looking ridiculous.

Being a waiter actually wasn’t too bad of an idea, Zach concluded. He was already on his feet cashiering all day, which was boring as all hell. The wage was way lower but the tips might make up for it. When Anxo mentioned attracting men in addition to women, the boy looked down at himself and frowned deeply. “Nah man, I’m barely hot enough for the ladies. I really gotta get workin’ on the whole physique thing. I’m all… lanky ‘n s**t. I’m lucky enough that they don’t just toss purses at me when I give ‘em the ol’ googly eyes… eh…”

Zach slumped back in his seat, defeated. “My bad luck is legendary, dude, you don’t even know… Maybe if I had a better a**...” Plan B for Butts. Zach snorted to himself.

Zach seemed to perk up at the story of Anxo smacking people around back in Ye Olde Daye. “Man, theater nerds are rougher than I thought. Beatin’ each other senseless with delicate, lacy gloves. Did you chafe? However did you survive?” The boy made his lower lip stick out in a pout and fluttered his lashes at Anxo like a useless princess might. Zach didn’t consider himself a nerd by any stretch of the imagination, but from Anxo’s description, they were more hardcore than Zach gave them credit for.

He stuck his tongue out again at Anxo when it was implied that all Zach did was stare and drool. At least he didn’t hump everything that moved, right? “Yeah yeah, there’s more to me than my almost-as-flat-as-a-piece-of-board a**. I also fix tables and do drywall, thank you very much.” For emphasis, he sipped his milkshake rather loudly. If he had a pair of glasses, they’d be over his eyes right now.


Truthfully though, Zach was fairly white bread boring by most standards. He had a goofy personality, but lacked ambition and didn’t have very many inclusive hobbies he could share with others. “Dammit Anxo, now you’re makin’ me all self-conscious n’ s**t. Bein’ all…” He seemed flustered, uncomfortable and embarrassed at the thought of truly peeling apart his life and analysing it like a scientist, asking himself if he was happy with its current trajectory. The boy started grumbling to himself, not to Anxo, and stared into the sugary goodness of his milkshake. “...insightful n’... whatever… big words n’ s**t… bein’ like oh you should probably figure out where your life is headed, dumbass when I’d rather jus’, you know, have milkshakes n’ talk about asses… don’t like thinkin’ ‘bout how boring everything is… n’... ugh.”

With a huff, Zach crossed his arms. He wasn’t upset with Anxo, but having to really analyze his life (seriously, for once) made him wholly embarrassed and ashamed. He was headed nowhere, and fast, and for all his bluster, he’d hardly accomplished much in the way of… anything in particular. “....yeah… goal one, get a better bod. You’re right, you’re right…”

Zach made a noise somewhere between a growl and a grumble, swatting Anxo’s hands away from his delicate, yet very manly, thankyouverymuch cheeks. He’d had too much baby fat left over from puberty - or so he told himself. Maybe he needed to lay off the burgers and Cheetos and really get into shape for once, instead of relying on his metabolism primarily.

“You know you have to tell me all your theater war stories.” Zach stuck his tongue out at his companion for teasing him. The boy couldn’t commiserate with such stories - he didn’t do anything particularly remarkable in high school. No instruments, he only dabbled in sports, and didn’t participate in drama classes. Zach had led a rather boring, uneventful high school life. “You guys sound like metalheads out in a mosh pit, but instead of face piercings and tattoos, you’ve got foam board and pinking shears. Yes I know what those are don’t judge me.”

He took Home Economics once, only because he had to. Zach never did figure out why they were called pinking shears, especially since “pinking” wasn’t a verb. Home Ec was confusing.

With a sigh, the boy slumped into his chair, having eaten his fill of delicious calories. “Aight, aight, in the name of beefcake, I’ll wear swim trunks. I don’t do banana-hammocks, so that better be okay at the DCU swimming pool.” came a grumble, Zach being clearly embarrassed at the thought of disrobing in front of what he assumed would be tremendously talented (and ripped) student athletes. There were two prevailing thoughts for the boy at this juncture - get in shape to impress Gale, and get in shape so his self-esteem wouldn’t have to be evident through the mask of jovial aloofness he tried to keep in place at all time. “How do we do this whole swim-thing? Is the pool at least heated…?”

Anxo would soon find Zach wasn’t the most proficient swimmer… he could not-drown, at least.

The Cafe idea was interesting, but Zach shrugged in response. “I dunno, Anxo. I’m not real… art-y. I mean, I could wait tables no prob, but arting’s… not really my thing. But it’s better than bein’ at some dead-end loser cashier position at Blahblahmart.”