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[beatemall]

< BadMachine2004 > — normal handle
< KidArachnid > — used for hero work
< Sunflower > — anonymous posting

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[beatemall]

[Regardless of the lack of it in his chest—that smile, that excited inflection coloring his name in vibrant hues—it all coalesces into a shuddering tightness that claims Miles' not-so-cold, but certainly dead, heart. His smile falters just slightly, turns giddy at the corners, and his feet come to meet the ground just to half-jog towards Shoyo and meet him a little bit sooner.

With the ends of his arms shoved into his jacket's pockets and his hands gesticulating at shoulder height—]

It's my first time, I'd say let's go on your recommendation, but... [His hand zips on by, finding the handle of the shop's door and pulling it open for Shoyo to trot in first.] I'm kind of a pizza guy. [Which is to say, he's from New York and kinda snooty—but not Neopolitani snooty, apparently.] A classic pie should be perfect but uh, hm. How much do you eat? Maybe we should get an extra cheese pie too?

[Miles' appetite isn't what it used to be, but he's sure he can help Shoyo demolish two pizzas.]

[jumpie]

[ it’s in he goes, but shoyo waits just a little ahead of the doorframe for miles to enter along with him, eventually cruising the inside of the place side by side. ]

A lot . . . I even skipped my snack for this!

[ it’s alright to skip on his protein snack and lean meat dinner if he was going to wolf down an entire cheese pie, right? it’s good times like these that don’t have to heed a sports diet (it’s not like he eats pizza every day). shoyo’s ears are sensitive and react to all sorts of sounds within the kitchen, with flips and swerves, but he pays the most direct attention to the scent he has to inhale deep— oh, that’s so good. it fuels his tastebuds and makes his mouth feel utterly wet.

he’s a little bit more serious in tone, but ecstatic in expression when he says, with a touch of impeding doom (for the pizza): ]

Let’s do two.

[beatemall]

[Skipped his—

Miles' hand zips up to cover the laugh that catches him off guard, chokes him, before he can swallow it back down and let his smile say everything. He doesn't doubt that Shoyo burns enough energy to eat several snacks, but to hear something like that... It makes him sound like a proper athlete, and not just his hyperactive best friend.]

Dude, I don't know what kind of snacks you usually have, but we're getting the biggest pies they got, aight?

[Just as pizza is his wheelhouse, Miles saunters up to the ordering counter like he knows the place inside and out, despite it being his first time ordering here. He passes his gaze over the menu briefly, just to make sure this dimension doesn't call a pepperoni pizza anything weird—and then orders them the two pies. One classic, one that's all cheese (with extra too), just for Shoyo. Once Miles forks over his solars and takes the ticket, he'll walk his way over to a booth across from the counter and plop down to wait.]

So, I gotta brief you before we get there but- uh... My room's kinda messy. Hope that doesn't bother you?

[jumpie]

[ they're simple little fuels— fruits, yogurt, protein shakes or nutty bars, even pieces of jerky to give him that little boost before dinner. it's been about two months since he started taking his alternate self's advice, and what do you know . . . he might be getting puffier.

but, come on— paying for all of them, even! as he pipes up a chortle, shoyo can be seen trying to slip some solars into miles' pockets, which eventually translates to getting them two 1 liter glass bottles of cola. are they going to eat and drink that much? no, but— well, maybe. never underestimate the combined boy appetite on a hang-out night. ]

Who's room isn't? [ he only kept his room organized because he had to, for reasons that go foggy when he tries to recall— but he knows it had to do with discipline or something, but his bed is often not really made, or only made halfway, his magazines stack unevenly, and so on. sliding into the spot across from miles, shoyo's hoof gives a clap against the floor and nudges the other's shin like he would bop his elbow into his arm if they were side by side. ] Your messiness is safe with me, dude . . . 'Cuz you have to see me eat.

[ which might be. an experience??? because blackhole shoyo. where does all that pizza Fit. where does it Go.

(they're not even there yet, and— he's giddy, delighted and having fun.) ]

[beatemall]

[Miles laughs, especially recalling what his room looked like after an interdimensional portal messed it up further. In fact, by comparison, he's sure his current room looks way less messy than his room back home.]

Alright, alright... You got a point with that. [He says into his fist, trying to keep himself from laughing any louder and drawing even more attention their way. His other hand zips across the table and gives Shoyo's arm a small punch.] Bro, when you say it like that, it makes me afraid for those pizzas. What do you have in store for them?

[jumpie]

[ miles doesn’t know what he’s doing. giving a kelpie fuel wasn’t a good idea, unless . . . well. unless you want to horse around, and the close proximity, the elation he causes just has shoyo grinning sweetly from ear to ear, snickering—

he’s finally pulled it all together to say something serious. to be serious, one that requires sudden attention and caution. man, something happened. ]

I’m gonna pepperown those guys.

[ the straight face stays. until, after about five full seconds, it breaks. ]

[beatemall]

[Miles doesn't last nearly as long as Shoyo does, with a straight face. In fact, the straight face might be a reason why he breaks with a laugh that nears on barking. If he could cry, surely his eyes would be wet with how he folds over with the sound.]

H-holy shit, [he wheezes, wiping at his eyes out of instinct,] dude you are not allowed to pun, ever again.

[He straightens, clears his throat—]

Otherwise, I might make like a pizza, and pie.

[jumpie]

[ laughing is infectious. punning, now that's a virus. the sound that deflates out of shoyo is like a loose balloon and an equine squeal just as he lowers his head into his flattened arms against the table. the wheeze becomes a full-on, shoulder-trembling laugh because he's got one, he's got one, oh my god— ]

That, that was so crusty, Miles . . . [ snort, ] Cheesus—!