[ a picture comes in of the façade of a beautiful building, an art museum. gigi has circled a little plaque on the front and if/when he zooms in he'll find his own surname on it. maybe it's a coincidence! she doesn't care! ]
This is the easiest game of dónde está Wally I've ever played
[ gigi's accent is so faint nowadays that really the only way to tell she was raised in spain is how much she loves lunch — america, as far as she can tell, is hell. she's easy to spot, blanket spread on the grass, food spread across the blanket, bread and olive oil and a little bowl of olives, a plate of cheese and cold cuts (no pork) and strips of salmon, and a bowl of cherry tomatoes from which she is currently throwing tomatoes in the air and trying to catch them in her mouth. she misses every single time but eats the tomatoes anyway, wiping the grass off on her sundress.
[ he did, in fact, find two bottles of hibiscus tea, and like a good, self-respecting, city-dwelling millennial he has his own cheese knife which he brought along for the occasion. he displays his offerings as he joins gigi on her cute little setup, taking the side of the blanket at a right angle to hers. ]
[ she shrugs, immediately taking the knife to spread some cheese on her bread. she'd almost used the bread as a knife but refrained somehow. the knife is stabbed into the cheese and she adds slivers of salmon to her bread and cheese. ]
I haven't been back since I left but someone was selling olives at the market and... [ she shrugs, biting into her open sandwich so she doesn't have to continue. homesickness is universal. ]
[ well, that's very bittersweet. His amused smile softens but doesn't leave his face, and busies himself with putting together a bite from this little charcuterie spread so that she doesn't feel like she's being stared at. ]
Um, I'm not sure. I think it might make me feel bad.
[ she always manages to find the spanish neighborhood wherever she goes, summoned by yellow rice and bocadillo and her native language, but despite spain being her home — ] There isn't really a home I can go visit. The orphanage was for, you know, kids. They don't really accept millennials.
[ her sad orphan life is too sad for a picnic lunch though so she tries to soften her own childhood. ] Plus I don't think Sister Genoveva has forgiven me yet for breaking into the sacristy and drinking all the wine when I turned seventeen.
[ he watches her steadily. her story isn't the saddest he's heard, but it's far moreso than his, which isn't sad at all. so that's the kind of thing he's always keeping in perspective. ]
Oh, come on. Isn't forgiveness supposed to be a major thing for Catholics? [ he holds up a cherry tomato, offering to aim it at her mouth. ] And any nun handling a bunch of kids needs to be prepared for chaos.
Sister Genoveva became a nun right before Franco, she never forgave the church for supporting him.
[ gigi was (is) appropriately afraid of that then-84 year old woman. still stole the wine from the sacristy so maybe she had a little bit of a death wish when she was seventeen, but appropriately terrified of the elderly nun nonetheless. sister genoveva would have personally fist fought pope pius xi.
she does absolutely open her mouth to catch the tomato but no matter his aim, she veers too far to catch it and misses entirely, again. ]
My hand-eye coordination is fine! This is different!
[ but she does hold perfectly still and BINGO that is the key to successfully lobbing the tomato in her mouth. giggling around a cherry tomato is much nicer than being sad about missing a home she never had. ]
[ that makes him laugh, delighted, and he reaches out to high-five her. don't think they're done with spain, though. ]
Anyway - you could always go back as a tourist, right? Like on holiday. I don't think that'll stop you from getting nostalgic, but maybe it'll be more on the sweet side of bittersweet.
[ her hand eye coordination is good enough to high five him and she sticks her tongue out at him for good measure. in case he ever thinks "my friend is a vampire and that's scary", he'll always have the memory of her hitting herself in the eye with a tomato to set him back to rights. ]
Holiday by myself? Shit, every vieja will be trying to set me up with their grandsons. [ she wrinkles her nose before affecting a thicker accent, sounding like every gossipy old auntie. ] Ay, mija, my grandson Victor, he is a good man, owns lots of land, treat you like a princess, pobrecita.
[ her impression is so spot-on, and moreover relatable, that he laughs harder and has to lean back before he knocks something over. ]
C'mon, that's just part of the experience. Besides, it doesn't have to be by yourself! For example, I myself would jump on a plane to Spain right now, if someone were to ask me.
[ the surprise in her voice is genuine, as if startled anyone would want to visit the downright beautiful island she was raised on. with her specifically. ]
[ again, gigi is thrown by the genuine interest in her life. it isn't some utter lack of self-esteem, she thinks she is pretty cool actually, she doesn't know anyone else than can field dress a moose or forge a signature after only seeing it once. but she grew up very cognizant of being passed over for other little girls or boys so she has the self-worth of a rotten banana. ]
I mostly just went swimming a lot. So I guess you'll have to pack your speedo.
[ he continues to gesture with the cheese, although he does take a bite out of it first. ]
This is discrimination. I have Hawaiian print shorts that look cute as hell on me. If I happened to also have a speedo, I couldn't be expected to bring it out without some kind of quid pro quo on the table.
[ ignoring that she's spent most of the last few years in scotland, she still can't be fucked to buy a new suit when she has so many left that are still in workable condition. besides, that is the only quid pro quo she can think of. ]
Okay... good point. But still. I feel so oblivious now.
[ but he just sighs and leans back on his hands for a minute, very obviously lingering on something before he visibly snaps himself back to the present.]
Uh... [ her eyebrows knit together, mouth turning down as she tries to chase the thread of their conversation back to where it all started, fingers tapping against her bottle. ]
Oh, right, I remember. Tell me what you were thinking about first.
[ gigi looks around, surveying their surroundings. it's not terribly packed. after a moment she nods to herself and sets her drink down, scooting up on her knees and turning her back on him. ]
[ his eyes go wide, but medhi hops to it. he only glances around once to confirm, yes, holy shit, they are not about to get caught for any part of this before he leans in and obligingly tugs down the zip on the back of her dress. ]
[ once unzipped, gigi wriggles one sleeve down, holding the rest of the dress to her chest and reaching back to unhook her bra despite that she could have asked him to do that too. she wriggles out of one strap until she can reveal the tiny tattoo of a cluster of flowers. ]
They're forget-me-nots. [ a beat, voice turning wry. ] I definitely can't show you the other one in public.
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This is the easiest game of dónde está Wally I've ever played
Want to go for a picnic?
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Yeah, I could go for that. Where?
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There's a park nearby
[ she drops a pin in her map and sends it to him ]
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Ok looks good. What should I bring?
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Can you find some hibiscus tea and a cheese knife?
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Can and will. See you in 20
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[ gigi's accent is so faint nowadays that really the only way to tell she was raised in spain is how much she loves lunch — america, as far as she can tell, is hell. she's easy to spot, blanket spread on the grass, food spread across the blanket, bread and olive oil and a little bowl of olives, a plate of cheese and cold cuts (no pork) and strips of salmon, and a bowl of cherry tomatoes from which she is currently throwing tomatoes in the air and trying to catch them in her mouth. she misses every single time but eats the tomatoes anyway, wiping the grass off on her sundress.
one of the tomatoes hits her in the eye. ]
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[ he did, in fact, find two bottles of hibiscus tea, and like a good, self-respecting, city-dwelling millennial he has his own cheese knife which he brought along for the occasion. he displays his offerings as he joins gigi on her cute little setup, taking the side of the blanket at a right angle to hers. ]
So, what's the occasion?
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[ she shrugs, immediately taking the knife to spread some cheese on her bread. she'd almost used the bread as a knife but refrained somehow. the knife is stabbed into the cheese and she adds slivers of salmon to her bread and cheese. ]
I haven't been back since I left but someone was selling olives at the market and... [ she shrugs, biting into her open sandwich so she doesn't have to continue. homesickness is universal. ]
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[ well, that's very bittersweet. His amused smile softens but doesn't leave his face, and busies himself with putting together a bite from this little charcuterie spread so that she doesn't feel like she's being stared at. ]
What's stopping you from going back?
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[ she always manages to find the spanish neighborhood wherever she goes, summoned by yellow rice and bocadillo and her native language, but despite spain being her home — ] There isn't really a home I can go visit. The orphanage was for, you know, kids. They don't really accept millennials.
[ her sad orphan life is too sad for a picnic lunch though so she tries to soften her own childhood. ] Plus I don't think Sister Genoveva has forgiven me yet for breaking into the sacristy and drinking all the wine when I turned seventeen.
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Oh, come on. Isn't forgiveness supposed to be a major thing for Catholics? [ he holds up a cherry tomato, offering to aim it at her mouth. ] And any nun handling a bunch of kids needs to be prepared for chaos.
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[ gigi was (is) appropriately afraid of that then-84 year old woman. still stole the wine from the sacristy so maybe she had a little bit of a death wish when she was seventeen, but appropriately terrified of the elderly nun nonetheless. sister genoveva would have personally fist fought pope pius xi.
she does absolutely open her mouth to catch the tomato but no matter his aim, she veers too far to catch it and misses entirely, again. ]
Why am I so bad at this!
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I don't know! For a cat burglar, your hand-eye coordination is pretty suspect, pussy cat. Here- [ he holds up another lil tomato ] -don't move.
[ maybe if she doesn't move her head then he can just bulls-eye it into her mouth. ]
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[ but she does hold perfectly still and BINGO that is the key to successfully lobbing the tomato in her mouth. giggling around a cherry tomato is much nicer than being sad about missing a home she never had. ]
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Anyway - you could always go back as a tourist, right? Like on holiday. I don't think that'll stop you from getting nostalgic, but maybe it'll be more on the sweet side of bittersweet.
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Holiday by myself? Shit, every vieja will be trying to set me up with their grandsons. [ she wrinkles her nose before affecting a thicker accent, sounding like every gossipy old auntie. ] Ay, mija, my grandson Victor, he is a good man, owns lots of land, treat you like a princess, pobrecita.
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C'mon, that's just part of the experience. Besides, it doesn't have to be by yourself! For example, I myself would jump on a plane to Spain right now, if someone were to ask me.
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[ the surprise in her voice is genuine, as if startled anyone would want to visit the downright beautiful island she was raised on. with her specifically. ]
Okay.
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You're gonna show me around, right? Anything you remember. All the secret places of Gigi's backstory.
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I mostly just went swimming a lot. So I guess you'll have to pack your speedo.
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What exactly makes you think I've got a speedo?
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[ she shrugs but it's true! ]
But I suppose you can bring trunks if you're a coward.
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This is discrimination. I have Hawaiian print shorts that look cute as hell on me. If I happened to also have a speedo, I couldn't be expected to bring it out without some kind of quid pro quo on the table.
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[ ignoring that she's spent most of the last few years in scotland, she still can't be fucked to buy a new suit when she has so many left that are still in workable condition. besides, that is the only quid pro quo she can think of. ]
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Small enough you'll finally see my tattoos. I'm Spanish, Medhi, use your imagination.
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[ he is honestly shocked. moreso at himself for not conducting a more thorough examination. ]
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[ she can't help her little laugh, giggling around her tea when she finally cracks it open. ]
I think your hand might have covered one entirely.
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[ but he just sighs and leans back on his hands for a minute, very obviously lingering on something before he visibly snaps himself back to the present.]
Remind me what we were actually talking about.
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Oh, right, I remember. Tell me what you were thinking about first.
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Unzip me.
[ her sundress has lemons on it. ]
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They're forget-me-nots. [ a beat, voice turning wry. ] I definitely can't show you the other one in public.