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Everywhere in the world that he could go on leave and yet, somehow, he ended up in New York again -- Zac in tow. Mostly it was because he knew this city, though eventually he suspected he get some kind of lecture, some kind of concern that he was visiting people he knew, too.

He wasn't. He'd wear a hat. With it over the white shock of his hair, he didn't think people would recognize him even if they saw him, five or ten pounds heavier and in a good way, in clothes that kind of fit. comfortable and confident. The store he wanted to go to wasn't far from a tattoo parlor anyway, and so he could push Zac toward it and then slide away with a grin.

Wise to stay together for safety, but that didn't mean they couldn't split to spare Zac some embarrassment. Likely, Ever would be done first, waiting outside the tattoo parlor with a black plastic bag tucked under one arm.

"You don't want to know." It was easy, amused, head cocked to take in Zac's boxes -- and, as he straightened, he abandoned the cigarette he'd been smoking, stomping it out. Maybe it wasn't just blithe mockery, but an honest statement.

"I was thinking lunch, and then I need to hit up a warehouse to buy another thing of cigarettes, and a bunch of vodka. Some chocolate. Some cranberry juice." He pondered, beckoning Zac along as he started away down the street.

"It shouldn't take too long, except then I want to haul you along to Ikea, which is all the way in Jersey, but I'll buy the tickets." A beat. "...I used to live in NY."

"It's a gigantic city. I'd only be in trouble if I headed back to my old work and, to be honest, I think that if you stepped one foot inside that s**t hole you'd go so purple your head would about explode." It was cheerful enough, easy, shaking his head as he beckoned Zac along. Ever's idea of a nice lunch was going to be a burger joint, probably -- nothing fancy or exotic but fundamentally New York in its own way, but it was a bit to get there and damned if he was going to pay for a cab.

"It'd be different, I think, if my family were here -- but then, my home town was tiny, if I set one foot there everyone would recognize me immediately." He shook his head, flicking Zac a look. "I didn't really have anyone here."

"Nope." He blinked down at Zac, considering for a moment: he'd never even thought about taking advantage of his leave to go somewhere exotic, and what did that say about him? This was like a trip to the corner store, and it always was. Getting errands done. A n** out to the familiar corner store.

But then he paused, blinking a bit to think about that.

"Well. Yes. Kind of. I went on a mission, and it was in the sahara, but that wasn't exactly...sightseeing."

"New Zealand's pretty low on my list -- " He paused as he said it, blinking down to Zac and then shaking his head just a little. It was rude, and he knew it, but also true.

"I mean, maybe I'd be willing. But I've never done Paris, or Provence, or even Marseilles, so I should...I don't know. Start there." He rolled a hand as he said it, vague and somewhat dismissive. "I have to figure out what I want to do. What is there, even, in New Zealand?"

"Funny accents, then." He grinned, though, turned it to a joke, and stretched out his legs so he could hit the restaurant door before Zac did and open the door for him, in a falsely gallant way. Comfortably teasing.

"I'm sorry I'm taking you into New Jersey instead of hitting everywhere fun in Manhattan, though. You should come back with someone who likes to dance and run around a bit." The restaurant beyond was simple, casual, chrome booths and stools up against the window. Ever nudged Zac up to the counter to order.

He could order whatever he'd like; Ever'd get the cheapest thing on the menu, as was, with french fries -- and water. But he'd pay, even if Zac got something with pineapple and a giant milkshake, too, since it was his choice. They could sit by the window and look out as they ate, Ever's black plastic bag hanging off his chair, with the handle of Cee's riding crop poking out.

"See, why would I go to New Zealand, if there's not even anything fun to do there." It was easy, teasing, but maybe not entirely. "If you can't imagine something like-home-but-better..."

Ever just shrugged at him with a flash of a smile, shaking his head and polishing off the last of his burger. Ever didn't much care about roasts, or room furnishings, or any of that, so he thought while he chewed.

"We're going to go take the train to Jersey, to Ikea. I've never been, but it's got pretty much everything. I just need an end table." A handful of fries vanished into his mouth, too, and he washed them down with water. "But we can get whatever you might need."