It wasn't long before they were parked in front of a strip mall containing several shops, including a grocery store, dollar store, nail salon, hair salon, shoe store, and a Mexican restaurant, as well as a couple of other odd little mom-and-pop shops. "I'm not sure where you planned to get the tattoos from, but the dollar store seems like a good place to start the search. I got my hair done here the last time I dyed it, so this strip mall was fresh on my mind. We can go somewhere else if you were thinking of a different place." Lancee turned the car off and leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms above and behind his head.

As the two stepped out of the car, Lance locked it behind him and took a few steps forward. Then, he looked down as he felt Inari take his hand.

"If the dollar store proves useless, we'll go somewhere else. I've gotten a few temporary tattoos before from a place nearby, but why not give someplace new a chance?" Inari shrugged. He suddenly gave Lance a determined expression, intertwining the fingers of his left hand with Lance's right. "I'm here, alright?" He said gently, before turning and marching into the nail salon with his head held high.

Chills. Absolute chills ran through Lance's body. "Ah," He paused. What are you doing? Every single alarm in Lance's body seemed to be going off, as he was completely blindsided by this move. Inari? What is happening? He stared at their hands for a moment, unable to correctly process why Inari would be holding his hand. His head was filled with every curse word he could think of, and when Inari moved forward, pulling him toward the shop, Lance realized just how bad his infatuation was becoming. Damn you. Damn. He stared at the back of Inari's head, trying to compose himself. I've never felt like this before. What's going on? Why is he holding my hand??

Inari approached the front desk, noticing that two of six nail stations were currently occupied. "I've never been here before, so I must ask, do you need an appointment?" He had a very direct, strong voice that demanded attention, but was also surprisingly polite. His posture somehow looked like the most masculine thing in the place, so much so that the receptionist visibly held back a strange stare.

"G-" She cleared her throat with a subtle laugh, "-good afternoon to you, too." She smiled, this time with a soft laugh through her nose.

Inari nodded softly. "It is a good afternoon, yes. I'm a bit nervous." He meant it as an apology for being perhaps a bit too direct, although nervous was the last thing his persona would be described as.

"That's alright." The receptionist's posture relaxed a bit, and she leaned in slightly. "You don't need an appointment here, unless we're busy. So, what're you here for?"

Lance took a deep breath when he heard the small jingle of the door closing behind them. The smell of nail polish hit him like a truck, and his green eyes scanned the room for any other males. Nope. Just as I suspected. No other guys. Except for you. . . His eyes fell once more to their linked hands, and stayed locked in that position so that he didn't even notice the receptionists initial look, or even pay attention to what was being said until Inari said,

"Well," Inari had looked at Lance's hand as he'd taken it, and he was aware that his friend didn't need his nails cut. "Lance would like his nails painted black, and he's not sure if he'd like shiny or matte just yet. I'd like my nails trimmed into a soft-square shape, and painted shiny navy blue."

Shiny or matte? Oh, right. I forgot matte was even a thing. That might be kinda nice. 

The receptionist gave another smile-laugh combo as she gestured to the two furthest stations. "Maggie and Emily are on lunch break, and they should be back in ten or less. Take a seat, relax, and wait."

"Thank you." Inari replied gently, giving Lance's hand a small squeeze as he approached the nail stations.

Lance finally looked up and met eyes with the lady at the desk when she told them to take a seat. "Thank you," He told her politely after Inari. When Inari led him toward the seats and squeezed his hand, his panic built up again. Now what was that? He drew in a deep breath.

"Would you like some water? A coffee, maybe?" The receptionist asked.

"No thank you." Inari replied, letting go of Lance's hand to sit down at one of the indicated stations.

The receptionist looked to Lance, planning to look away once she'd either gotten an answer from him, or been ignored for over five seconds.

"No. . . wait, yes. Water, please." Lance said and winced slightly when Inari let go of his hand. It took him a few moments to realize he was disappointed about the moment being over.

Inari attributed Lance's momentary indecisiveness to his nerves. Well, I'm doing my best. He thought with a quiet sigh. Should I move closer to him? No, we'll eventually have to part again when the employees return. How about...a story? The perfect distraction, and I'll be able to keep it up throughout the entire treatment. Hopefully, the minutes will fly by for Lance.

As soon as they both sat down, they got no more attention than a single, neutral glance from the other customers. The nail technicians were too focused on their jobs to care.

Inari's strategy was clear: take the blame for being nervous. "A few deep breaths, and I'm feeling alright." Inari casually told Lance. "How're you holding up?"

He sat in the seat next to Inari and kept his eyes focused on his lap until Inari asked him how he was doing. He put on a reassuring smile. "I'm okay, thanks." He told him. I would be doing much better if not for you, Inari. No, don't say that, Lance. You know you liked it. He looked off to a distant corner to avoid eye contact with his friend. The receptionist came up and handed him a cup of water. He took it with a curt nod and "Thank you," then sipped on it at an even pace to avoid conversation.

One of the stylists approached them next, and gave them a courteous smile. "And what can I get for you. . .?" Lance could tell she was about to say more, but that she had let her sentence die off early. He gave Inari a look that hopefully implied that he wanted him to speak first.

Inari, who'd been looking at Lance from the moment the stylists returned, immediately understood Lance's expression. He nodded with an assuring smile, and turned to the stylist. "I'd like my fingernails trimmed, filed into a soft square, and painted shiny navy blue. My friend, Lance," He gestured politely to Lance, "doesn't need his nails trimmed, and he's currently deciding between matte, and shiny black paint for his fingernails-" He finished, having used a visibly effortless, casual tone, as if he was ordering his usual at a restaurant.

Once Inari had done most of the talking, Lance set his water down and coolly answered with, "-Black, matte," hitching his sentence onto the end of Inari's.

"Ah, he's decided." Inari nodded. He kept trying to think of a story while the stylists took their seats, and just as Lance's stylist gently took hold of his hand, Inari chose the story. "Lance? This reminds me of a story." It doesn't, but maybe by the time I've finished telling it, he'll find some link between this and...my story.

Lance raised his eyebrows curiously. A story? Well, this will prove to be interesting. "Go ahead," He said softly, quickly looking at his hands as the stylist took one of them. He listened to Inari start his story, but his eyes were focused on the process that was going into his nails.

"Back in a time where there was no running water or electricity, in a small town in some...European country, there was once a poor gypsy woman-Stop me anytime if you're uninterested-" Inari added before continuing, almost seamlessly, in a mysterious storyteller voice that was only slightly cheesy "-She was awful at dancing, playing instruments, cooking, gardening, stand-up comedy...basically, she was bad at everything she needed to keep a job. Pretty down on her luck, too, because her employer, 'the baker' as he was called-" Inari jested with a brief smile, making a joke that there was only one baker in the village, and since this was a valuable profession at the time, that was his title "-had just fired her for tripping in the streets and losing an entire box of muffins. I can just picture them all rolling down the hill while her face is just...petrified." He laughed softly. "So, with her delivery-girl job out of the picture, she did what she always did, and came up with a bunch of ideas without any good methods of execution, all while looking for another job. This time, her reputation as an awful employee had spread so well throughout the village that every potential employer slammed a door in her face. Bam!" Another soft laugh. "At the top of her list of ideas was a way to get an abundance of coins, every day, without getting another job from a guy who'd fire her the moment she inevitably screwed up. So, she walked around town, checking a theory. She saw eight fountains throughout the entire town, and tons of people walking past them, often without even sparing the fountains a glance.”

At this point in the story, Lance lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at Inari. "First of all, you're not slick," He grinned, "I see where this is going.”

"You do?" Inari pretended not to know what Lance meant. He'd only half expected Lance to be suspicious by the time the gypsy's idea was revealed. He hadn't expected him to figure it out before that.

“Second of all, how does a town without running water have a fountain?" He lifted an eyebrow in a challenging manner.

"Good, you were paying attention." Inari replied, visibly happy Lance was listening. "It was a time without running water, usually, but the kingdom where this takes place is actually ahead of its time. It's closer to Italy, so they cheated off the Romans' homework." He laughed softly.

Lance then closed his mouth and listened further, trying to keep his eyes off of his own nails by looking at Inari's. The sight of seeing them file his nails made him want to squirm in his seat, but he stayed still. I am very glad Inari told them not to trim mine. I would not be able to handle that sand-paper feeling on my nails. His nails had always been sensitive when rubbed against certain fabrics or surfaces, and because of that pet-peeve, as well as his tendency to chew his nails, he liked to keep his nails cut short.

“Then, she put her mind to work on how to set her idea into action. Just telling everyone wouldn't be enough - no one would listen to her anyway. She didn't have any charisma, and her reputation was awful. She kept walking around town, hoping to get an idea. Finally, in the late afternoon, she got one. An old man was sitting by a fountain, telling a bunch of kids a story. She watched the way he managed to capture his normally-hyper audience's attention so effortlessly, the way they listened, and the way they protested when he told them their story time was over. After the children had left, the gypsy approached the old man, and asked if he could start using his skills at drawing in an audience around town to tell the story she had in mind. He asked what the story was. The gypsy began: 'Once upon a time, a man heard a legend about a wish granter who would grant any wish, as long as the wisher had faith in the wish granter.' 'But,' the old man asked, 'did the wish granter not ask for anything else in return?'. The gypsy replied 'Only that the wisher throw a coin - whatever small value it may have - into his enchanted fountain, and never remove it. It would be proof of their faith, patience, and their willingness to make a small sacrifice to gain something greater. Towards the end of the story, have the man's wish come true, in the best way possible. I'm not quite sure how would be best, but you're the storyteller. At the very end, you must convince your listeners to toss just one coin each into the fountain.' The old man smiled immediately, asking 'Are you going to steal the coins later?' The gypsy smiled, shaking her head as she replied 'You're welcome to take them yourself, if you can convince your audience to throw them in.' The old man had one final question. 'What would you gain?' The gypsy replied 'I will get to see my idea become reality. That is my wish. It has never happened before, and I would like to see it happen just once in my life.' So, the gypsy watched from afar as the old man gathered a crowd, and told the story. She observed the way he talked, his mannerisms, and every detail he added to the story. To the skeptics, the old man said the wishes wouldn't come true immediately, but if they had faith, they would, someday. The real value here', the old man said 'is that hoping for a better tomorrow is a good thing in itself'. That line earned a warm bout of laughter from his audience." By now, Inari's expression had a glow to it, a sort of excitement at sharing the story he never thought he'd experience. It also made him happy that Lance was listening, instead of just pretending to listen.

Lance was interested to see Inari's expression grow more and more excited as he continued his story. I wonder if he often gets this happy when telling stories. Perhaps he relates to the story-teller in this tale. Maybe I can coax more of these stories out of him in the future.

"That evening, she went to the fountain at the other end of town, and used all the skills she learned from observing the old man....and it worked. The gypsy traveled through different towns, retelling the story, and scooping up all the coins at the end of the day. Gradually, more people started wishing on fountains as the story spread, and you see how well that scam turned out. You just told me yesterday about how the way a coin lands affects the likelihood of the wish coming true." He gave another subtle smile.

Lance smirked. "That, I did," He agreed, happily playing along with Inari's little ruse.

"So, she lived to about forty, scooping coins from the fountains every night until she died of dysentery.”

He let out an audible laugh at this detail. "Oh, is this the Oregon Trail now?" He jested, poking fun at how easily one could die from dysentery in the old video game.

"Huh?" Inari asked in confusion. "I don't know anything about that, but dysentery was one of the most common ways to die back then." He waved his hand at the detail. Is it...a book? A movie - an old Western - perhaps? Or...a video game? "I'll Google The Oregon Trail later." He assured, swiftly shifting his focus back to the story again.

Lance laughed again. He really doesn't know? "I can show you some time, if you'd like. I don't have the original, just a more recent version of it," he told him.

Inari, still not understanding what the Oregon Trail even was, simply nodded. "That would be nice.” He paused a moment, trying to regain his train of thought. “Ah…” I was wrapping the story up with a bit of humor. “...The legends say, she died with a smile that remained even after death, for that had been her wish." Inari finally broke eye contact with Lance to glance down at his nails; Lance's nails were in the drying phase now. He locked eyes with Lance again, wearing a warm smile. "Did the story help?" Inari's stylist was painting his fourth-to-last nail.

Lance broke eye contact only when Inari did, also looking at his nails and realizing that the stylist had finished. Lance nodded and returned the warm smile. "Honestly, yes, it did.”

Inari released a quiet breath. It was a relief, as well as immensely satisfying, when something - especially if it hadn't been planned ahead of time - went well.

“Though, I know you just made it up. You have a knack for that.”

"Thank you." Inari replied. It felt as if the best compliments came when Lance complimented his personality, or choices, or abilities. Things he could control, which would obviously be better compliments than things he couldn't, like his appearance or voice.

“Thank you for distracting me."

"I'm happy it worked." Inari replied positively.

Lance looked at the other stylist who was finishing Inari's nails. Still some time to kill. "So, I was thinking, and I thought of something else we could do together some day. It doesn't seem very fair to make you plan all of our activities. And I'll try to think of more ideas too, but for now I just have the one." He pulled his hands up to look at the paint job on his nails, and lightly blew on the drying polish. "I was thinking we could grab breakfast together sometime. Maybe that can be a weekend plan, so we won't have to get up too early before classes," He suggested, setting his hands back down on the arm rests of the chair. I'm not really nervous at all anymore. It's kind of fun being here with him. Maybe now I understand why girls come to these places. "What do you think?"

"Isn't..." Inari tried to remember the term "breakfast for dinner' also a thing?”

"'Breakfast around the clock', is what it's called," Lance corrected him. "At least that's what I've always called it."

He admits it is his subjective opinion. I'll have to Google that as well. Inari made another mental note. “I understand what you mean by meeting up with me in the morning so we can have the whole day together-" He said casually, noticing what Lance was trying to set up "-but we also don't have to wait to have breakfast together. We swing by the grocery store any day you want, and we can make breakfast for dinner at your place." Inari hadn't meant to invite himself over. Even he knew it was incredibly rude, but, if the alternative was visiting his place?

Lance nodded. Truthfully, he would like that better, considering he rarely ever ate breakfast on a normal day. It was a shame, really, since a lot of breakfast foods were sweet or sugary - right up his alley. He hadn't even picked up on Inari's mention of his apartment until he started to explain himself.

"Inviting myself over is obviously a rude thing to do," Inari added, deciding to be direct on that point "but I hardly expect you to waltz into my rathole apartment and enjoy yourself. I imagine it would look like...mmm...." He tried to picture it from Lance's perspective "...those houses or the lower class you see in documentaries of fourth world countries." He shrugged with just his shoulders, giving Lance a look that said 'Your house is probably where we'd want to go'.

Lance chuckled once more and lightly put his hands up to stop Inari. "It's fine, really." Does he think that I view him like that? Like some. . . street beggar? I can tell that's not his intention. "You are welcome over to my place any time you'd like. Even if you just don't feel like going home to your 'rathole'. . ." He threw two fingers up and down in mock quotation marks when he said the word "rathole".

Inari blinked a few times in surprise. "That's very kind of you. The feeling of not wanting to go some often makes its appearance on my way there. It would be nice to not have to deal with that..."

". . . My couch is always available, yeah?"

So does Lance saying that negate the 'it is rude to invite yourself over' rule? I think I'll just have to see his reaction when I show up, as long as I don't break the 'don't come over unannounced' rule...if he's still uncomfortable, I won't show up again unless he directly invites me. If not...Inari imagined how nice it would be to look forward to coming home again. Moving back to the breakfast-for-dinner conversation, Inari said, "Unless you know any restaurants that let you buy breakfast menu items past breakfast?"

"Well, there's the popular chains like Waffle House or Denny's, but I don't think you would find that kind of place. . . suitable.”

Inari tilted his head slightly, confused as to what Lance meant. Wouldn't it be an issue of whether you found those suitable or not?

“Those are restaurants that you go to when it's three in the morning and you're not quite sober." Lance shook his head with a gleeful snicker.

"Is the food really that bad?" Inari jested with a soft laugh.

"All done." Inari's stylist said.

"Thank you." Inari replied politely. Hmmm. How should I go about asking if Lance will be paying again? He chose the place, and activity, didn't he? But would it be considered rude to go around asking him to pay for everything? I do have some savings...not that I'd ever elect to spend them on anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. Alright. I'll wait five seconds from when I've risen from my seat, and if he doesn't say anything, I'll pay for my own treatments without saying anything. I think that's fair. Inari stood. But wait...not addressing the problem directly is being...indecisive and spineless, isn't it? And, aren't friends supposed to...talk about their problems with each other? But what if the conversation turns to why I'm so protective of my savings? It's a very personal reason.... How would Lance perceive me just saying that? Well, he did refrain from telling me exactly why he was ignoring that Mark's texts, and I'm currently relying on my hypothesis to interpret why. It's still fair to withhold personal details. Completely fair. Alright, then! While we get our tattoos, I'll talk with him about-but then would I be sort of a male gold-digger, if that isn't already a gender-neutral term? It's just that I imagine the kinds of things he'd find fun aren't the same things I've come to appreciate while conserving my savings...Occasional trips to the arcade break up the everyday routines of reading books and watching documentaries at the school or public libraries...Going for long walks...and cooking meals.... studying...piano lessons...and chess lessons...chores...Inari sighed quietly. After we have that talk, how will I be able to say I won't be able to pay for anything too extravagant, and how I won't want to pay for anything unnecessary? He wouldn't think of me as a miser...Scrooge had money and kept it all to himself out of greed, meanwhile my end goal is quite different...I'd definitely call myself smarter than the members of the middle class who buy more than they can afford and kill themselves over debts later on.... That would be an awful outcome. I need time to plan this conversation. When I get home today, then, I'll write all my thoughts out, and try to explain...

When Lance looked over at the sound of Inari's stylist informing him that she was finished, he wore a content expression and let out a relieved sigh. Finally. That wasn't too bad, but I am ready to go for sure. He stood up, still blowing on his nails as he walked over to the counter to pay, his back to his friend. He took out his wallet very carefully, so as not to smudge the fresh nail polish. It had been drying for a while now, but he was still cautious. He paid the woman at the desk in cash, placing the extra change in the tip jar. He decided to just hold his wallet instead of putting it back in his pocket and once more risking damage to the paint.

"Alright, I think that covers it. Shall we go to the dollar store?" Lance was starting to walk out the door when he noticed Inari wasn't beside him. "Inari?" He looked around and saw him standing by his chair, clearly deep in thought. Hmm. What's gotten to him? "Inari." He repeated, this time in a sterner voice. That seemed to bring him back to earth.

It was then that Inari realized he'd been standing there, in front of his chair, unresponsive until he heard his name being called by Lance. "Yes?" Inari replied, blinking a few times as he came back to the present moment, locking eyes with Lance.

"Ready to go?" Lance asked, a confused look on his face. He held the door open for Inari, and gestured outside.

"Nn, yes." Inari replied, making for the door. "I got lost in thought."

"Are you alright?" Lance spoke quietly into Inari's ear once he came closer. He let the door close behind them, a soft jingle was heard as it swung shut. He turned to his left to walk beneath the cover of the strip toward the dollar store.

"Yes." Inari replied, walking with a deliberate foot of distance between them. Or I would be, if not for the way you keep talking in my ear. 

Lance gave a suspicious look when Inari kept distance between them. He didn't think that Inari was going to continue, but then he said,

"I have something important I need to discuss with you, but I'd like to schedule the conversation for tomorrow." He added after a brief debate of whether he should tell him right now or not. No, best to plan it out. 

So we are scheduling conversations now? Lance started to say something, but promptly shut his mouth when Inari told him not to.

"If you're thinking of making some joke about putting off tomorrow what we can do today, that is not the reason." Inari assured. "I simply would like to plan it out, write it out on paper, and read it to you so that I am not struggling to explain. If anything, I hate procrastinating."

Lance put on a gentle smile. "If you're going to go through the effort to write it out, would it not be easier to just let me read it instead of reading it to me aloud? Though, you can do whatever is more comfortable to you. I just know that I would feel awkward if I had to talk about something important by reading it off a piece of paper to my intended audience.”

"It would be more awkward to just stand there and wait, without having anything to do." Inari pointed out.

“Besides, what if I go off script?" Lance’s smile turned to a cheesy grin. He genuinely wasn't trying to get Inari to change his plans, he was just teasing, as usual.

"It's not-" Then Inari noticed his smile, then sighed, deciding to say no more on the subject until tomorrow.

"I'm joking," Lance clarified.

Inari looked down at his hands, finding the color surprisingly pleasant there. He'd never personally considered painting his nails, and now he was glad he'd experienced it at least once. He predicted this appreciation for the aesthetic would quickly wear off as soon as he got some scrapes. He knew the imperfection would irritate him, so he resolved to remove the color in three days. They won't get too scratched up, and I won't have to deal with them for four days...five, or even a week. I would've gone with black as well had Lance not suggested blue. I assumed it would match my aesthetic better, but the blue is a nice touch of color. "Thank you." He waved a hand, painted-nails-side towards Lance, meaning the manicure. "The vibe in there was lame, but it was nice going with you." And I'm still happy I could help you with something that you were too embarrassed to do on your own. Inari entered the dollar store first, then held the door open for Lance.

Lance grinned and looked at his own nails. "No, thank you. I love them. They did a great job. I think. I mean I've never had my nails done before. But I'm satisfied. And yours look great on you, too!" He briefly glanced at Inari's hands before returning his attention back to his own. He was lost in admiring them for a moment until he nearly walked into the door that Inari was holding open. He looked up, then took a side step and walked into the store.

Lance's emerald eyes scanned the shelves, looking for the right tattoo. Inari found his panda first and Lance began to worry that he wouldn't be able to find what he wanted. Finally, though, he found a sunflower tattoo on the bottom shelf. "Lucky me."

Inari didn't do much talking as they selected their tattoos; the dollar store was nice enough to carry both a decent sunflower, and a cute yet simple panda. "Fate said 'let them have tattoos today'." Inari jested. "Do you believe in fate, Lance?" He asked.

Lance looked up from his crouched position, holding the tattoo, and let out a thoughtful "Hmmm." He then stood and, as they walked to the registers, said, "I'm not sure whether or not I believe in fate. I will say, if it is an actual thing, I do think that fate can be challenged. I guess I could put it like this; Whatever happens is going to happen. Obviously, our actions impact the outcomes of certain situations, but who is to say that action wasn't already planned out by the universe? I don't know. I don't want to say that there isn't some greater being that already knows how our lives are going to play out, because hell, maybe there is. But why should something like that affect how I behave? I'm not going to make choices based on whether or not it pleases some deity or because it follows a line of fate, I'm going to make decisions based on what makes me feel good in the moment.”

Well, at least he's making decisions. Inari thought, firmly deciding to make no comments on how Lance said he made decisions based on what 'feels good in the moment'. Right brained person. He wanted to shake his head.

“I went a little off topic, but in short, I don't really care if fate is real.”

"Good." Inari replied with a nod.

“I can at least think I'm in control, and I'll never know the difference one way or the other if we're being honest." He gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders as the headed for his car, Inari once again holding the door for him on the way out. By now, their nails had dried so that they didn't have to be as careful now.

Well, I imagine if fate was real, things would happen regardless of what we tried...things that would make 'no good deed goes unpunished' and 'karma' always true. But if we're talking about fate where our thoughts and actions are also planned out, rather than just events, then I'd like to have a firm talk with God once I die. He thought angrily. Because if he is truly in control to that degree, why would he even put us through this life?

 

Inari made for Lance's car. As soon as Lance finished, Inari said. "I personally don't believe in fate. The idea that everything is already mapped out for us and that we are not in control, and that nothing we do can change it? There is nothing romantic about that. It sounds like hell. A reality where we can affect the endings of our stories, as long as we try hard enough and work smart enough.... that is much more beautiful."

Lance smiled with admiration this time. Such a storyteller. "I can agree with that.”

Inari smiled softly, happy to hear Lance agreed.

“Stunning thought, isn't it? Enough with the existential crisis, though, where are we headed next?" Lance sat in the driver's seat. I wonder if he has a car, or even a driver's license. He seems pretty set on walking places. Maybe it helps him escape reality? I know that running can help me with that sometimes. Why does he need to escape reality so often though? Maybe that's what he wants to talk about tomorrow. No, I think I'm analyzing this too much. It can't be that complicated. He probably just. . . doesn't have enough money. . . Lance thought back to the description Inari gave of his apartment. I hope all my spendings don't make him too uncomfortable.

Realizing Lance didn't know where they were going next, Inari said "Right, so, my turn to step out of my comfort zone." He sighed softly, taking a moment to pull his phone out of his pocket and look up the draft. I knew I'd forget the name..."The place we're going to is in..." He gave Lance the address "...and it's called La Cour, which apparently translates to 'The Courtyard' in French." He gave an unamused look.

Lance took a look at the address and nodded, starting the car. "I know the place."

"It's got this annoyingly formal French interior and a stuffy atmosphere." The perfect things to make me uncomfortable. "And the restaurant has this name because there's a courtyard by the back door. You have to pay extra for outdoor seating because it's this garden-like atmosphere with all these flowers and grass, and even a nice fountain." He explained as he connected his phone to Lance's car, and put on one of his chill playlists. On the way home, I'll tell Lance to choose the music. Inari thought.

"Yea, the gardens are nice.”

Inari raised his eyebrows in surprise. Why am I surprised, he's probably been to tons of places like this, so why not this specific one? While for me it's something completely out of the ordinary and quite strange.

“There's the main seating area, with a fountain like you mentioned, and then an archway covered in vines. Go through the archway and there's a large yard you can walk through with blooming plants and trees. They used to have peacocks, but I think they got rid of them because of. . . health concerns." He smirked. "I guess having free roaming birds in a place where food is served and eaten isn't necessarily sanitary, is it? You know, I used to have peacocks. Awful birds, really. They aren't very nice, at least ours weren't. They are like geese, but they are prettier, and they know it too." He shook his head, thinking back on it.

Inari burst into laughter at the thought of angry geese dressed as peacocks attacking people.

"Ah, there I go rambling again. . ."

"It was funny." Inari replied, hoping to encourage him to 'ramble on' more in the future. "And entertaining."

Lance turned the music up so as to stop himself from continuing. The chosen music was rather catchy, Lance had to admit, and he found himself tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat while he drove.

Inari was visibly surprised when Lance turned up the volume and tapped his fingers to the music. He likes the music. That's terrific. He thought happily. I wonder if I'll feel the same way when it comes to his music.