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Virgil would have an easier time letting the whole issue go and forgetting about if it wasn’t for the Spanish taunt. None of the words sounded anywhere near familiar to him so he couldn’t even begin to try to puzzle out what Marcel had said. One thing finally became perfectly clear to him, however. The younger man tended to switch to his birth language typically whenever they were teasing each other but he obviously didn’t want him to understand what he was saying. The coward! The part of him that was so used to living the life of a bounty hunter desperately yearned to make the Hispanic tell him what he’d meant, but running a proper interrogation required more attention than he could devote while he was behind the wheel. Asking was always an option, but where was the fun in that? Besides, it was apparently already time to teach his younger lover another lesson. And he planned to, once he had the energy. A smile softened his slightly sour expression as an idea on how they could spend their day was shared. ”Sounds real good t’me, darlin’. I’m fine though so don’t worry that pretty lil’ head of yours,” he reassured though it mostly to take any attention of his less than stellar state. At the very least he could hope getting breakfast would solve any problem.

Marcel claimed not to care what he ate for breakfast but the werewolf aimed to please and couldn’t bring himself to make him settle for less than what he desired. He always would even with something as mundane as fast food. The face the other man made upon seeing the menu options wasn’t missed and it had him preparing to suggest another fast food chain if his suggestions failed to appeal to him, but it didn’t come to that. Virgil couldn’t help but laugh somewhat at his order. The day when Marcel appeared to want to eat more food than he did had arrived, which was something he thought would never happen. He repeated the order to the person on the intercom and started to ease toward the window, all while trying to dig out his wallet from his back pockets. His efforts with it didn’t last long though, the man pausing as the credit card was offered to him. ”Thanks,” Virgil would take it with little argument or debate this time around and handed it over to the cashier before giving it back to its owner, shortly followed by their cups of coffee being given to them along with the bag containing all of their ordered food. He had a minor crisis on his hands there for a brief moment trying to juggle everything though it became easier once he realized he could simply push the empty bottle of Jager to the floor and put his cup of coffee in its place between his legs and the bag on the seat between them. They were back on the road in no time. As he headed for their next destination, Virgil took a sip of his coffee and promptly wrinkled his nose though he didn’t spit the foul brew out no matter how much he wanted to. He would never understand why people seemed to prefer weak coffee, what was the damn point of even drinking it?! He couldn’t believe he’d let his cherished companion for what was basically brown water. Coffee was the one thing the big guy could be really finicky about. The fact that Marcel was around to witness his bad behavior was the one thing that kept him from him tossing the whole thing out of his window. ”How’s th’ food?”

”For idiots t’know how t’make ah ********’ pot of coffee.” It probably was meant to be a rhetorical question but Virgil was feeling salty enough about the experience to b***h about it. Outside of alcohol and sweet tea, coffee was his favorite thing to drink and he had been looking forward to getting some before they got back to their home so he was disappointed over how bad the brew was. ”Sorry,” he sighed, realizing he was being childish about the whole matter. The coffee might be crap, but he couldn’t deny that the food didn’t at least smell good. And it was killing him. All he wanted to do was cram some of it into his mouth, but he wasn’t entirely willing to risk grabbing the wrong thing and biting into it. But Marcel came to his rescue thankfully. He didn’t even look to see what it might be he was going to be fed, he simply leaned closer to him without taking his eyes off the road and opened his mouth to receive the tidbits. He cautiously chewed the unknown food at first but it didn’t take him long to realize what it was. Of course, getting something else stuffed into his mouth was preferable but a chicken nugget and fry weren’t bad! ”Pretty good,” he muttered right after swallowing. It had been a long time since he’d eaten fast food that he had forgotten that it didn’t taste all that bad even if it was no doubt made from the cheapest ingredients. Any time the food was offered out, he out take it without any fuss about being fed even though it did make him feel like a baby bird whenever he had to hold open his mouth. The truck would eventually slow as they approached the liquor store, the driver only pulling into the parking lot after he confirmed the Open sign and the lights were on. ”I’m really startin’ t’miss th’ drive-through liquor stores back in Louisiana…” Literally drive through, large open buildings you could just drive into to get what you wanted with getting out. Parking near the door, he reached into the bag to take out one of his hash brown patties that came with his breakfast sandwiches and promptly ate half of it despite the hot fresh-from-the-fryer temperature. The few nuggets and fries Marcel had fed him helped keep his hunger from getting any worse, but it still wasn’t satisfied.

”Ya don’t have t’come in with me if ya don’t want ta. I won’t take long.” The lycan was ready to get home, eat, and relax with his beau and a good drink so he was going to make the pitstop as short as he could. Finishing his snack, he got out of the truck and disappeared inside right after tossing his coffee away in a nearby trashcan. The alcoholic might be feeling under the weather but, as long as he could still walk, nothing would stop him from getting his liquor. A beeline for the vodka selection was made after greeting the lone cashier at the register. Virgil decided to grab the last few dusty bottles of Everclear they had on the shelves, tucking them between one arm and his chest so he could carry them all at once. So many five was a little too many, perhaps, but at least he wouldn’t run out of alcoholic drinks any time soon. Well, at least for about a week if he drank other types of booze as well. On his way to the register, he stopped when caught a sign pointing to their sherry section. Hadn’t Marcel mentioned wanting to make some sort of Spanish cocktail with the stuff the other day? He couldn’t recall what kind, exactly, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to go check their selection out. A happy grin broke out across his face after his detour rewarded him and jogged his memory. Fino sherry. They actually had it. Well, he hoped it was the correct one. It was the only one he saw that started with an F and he was certain the one the Hispanic had mentioned had the same letter. The employee gave him a look as if trying to suggest he had a problem when he sat down the collection of bottles on the counter, which came nowhere close to making him feel ashamed of his purchase. The old guy needed to keep his trap shut and take his money! And let him also buy a half gallon of Irish coffee on display next to the registers along with everything else because it had to be better than the bullshit the fast food joint had sold them. After paying and picking up all the bags his purchases had been put into, he walked back out. Everything aside from the sherry, coffee, and one bottle of Everclear was put into the ice chest before he got inside of the truck to either drive them back to the apartment or sit and wait for Marcel if he needed to.