“I heard about that… It’s a shame,” is all he can really offer in regards to the Devon CEO’s passing – not having known him himself. For someone to pass so young though, with so much potential, it left a little bitterness on the tip of his tongue. “Seemed like he had a lot going for him.” And that was that. [break][break]

When the Sinistea floats over with a tray of biscuits, Angelo eagerly takes a handful without too much mind for decorum, his empty stomach and modest pockets encouraging him to take two, then two more and another for good measure. He gives the little ghost butler a 'thanks' that’s hard to decipher, mouth full of biscuit crumble as he quickly stuffs one into his mouth; blue eyes bright as he barely takes the time to appreciate the taste. Just thankful for the energy boost the sugary snack provides when all he’d given himself since this morning was wine. [break][break]

They stay sat out there for a while, casually talking and finishing off the rest of the bottle – Angelo polishing off the majority of the biscuits without shame – until the volunteer manager sticks his head out of the door, proclaiming they were closing shop soon. [break][break]

A little merry from drinking on an empty stomach, Angelo’s hand reaches out to steady himself on the wall, his balancing act on the back legs of the chair almost ending in disaster. Thankfully he topples forward, all four pins landing safely on the concrete and saving him from a farewell that Remiel would surely remember. Lyra, who’d fallen asleep on his lap, doesn’t stir. [break][break]

“Probably not something you should be saying at a soup kitchen - but it’s been fun,” he muses with an easy smile. Genuine. He hadn’t expected to come away from this evening with company that he had honestly enjoyed but it had made for a nice turn of events. Remiel was interesting, that was for sure and Angelo found himself intrigued by the man who had seemed politely uptight at first, loosen up gradually over the course of their shared drinks. He had proven to be surprisingly easy to talk to. [break][break]

“Oh, yeah. If you ever find this fabled ‘good, cheap wine’ then you have to let me know, alright?” He stands and, perhaps encouraged a little by the alcohol, flings an arm around the other man to give his furthest shoulder a pat; gesture familiar, his grin wide. Lyra is cradled in his free arm and snoozing like a baby, still unperturbed as Angelo keeps a steady hold of her. “But maybe next time you could take me somewhere nice, huh? I think I’m worth at least a step up from shady back alley, Rem.” [break][break]

For now though, he had that free meal to get stuck into.



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+ Remiel Calcifet

“If you wanted my number, all you got to do is ask.” There’s an amused expression on his face and although it would be quick for his words to be chalked up to Angelo being a tease of sorts; there’s a more earnest meaning behind the smile, as if letting his acquaintance know there was no need for formalities here. [break][break]

A pat on the shoulder says it all: loosen up. [break][break]

Angelo digs around in his pocket for his phone, rummaging through loose change, crumpled written notes and a few poketreats until he finally pulls out an old block which has seen better days. It’s well loved – sturdy, he prefers – like many of his possessions and doesn’t even have a touch screen, not like Angelo even blinks twice at the sign that he’s living ten years in the past in terms of technology. [break][break]

“Just a warning,” he says as prelude, thumbing through the contacts to set up a new one for Remiel. He’s already dubbed him: ‘WINE-O-REMY (:’. For now. He can’t remember his last name and he thinks it’s somehow fitting, given how Angelo still isn’t exactly sure where he had got the wine from. For all he knew it could be a habit for him to bring a bottle to soup kitchens. “I’m shit at responding by text. So if I don’t reply back, I’m probably not ignoring you; it’s just I’ve ran out of credit.” [break][break]

They trade their contact details and once saved, Angelo returns his phone to his pocket, not bothering to one-ring to check the numbers were stored correctly. “Great, thanks.” He's sure it'll be fine; for some reason he trusts that the other guy wouldn't fake digit him, Remiel had seemed genuine in his request. Instead he returns the slumbering clefairy in his arm back into her pokeball before turning back to Remiel, giving him a nod towards the door back into the kitchen.[break][break]

“Maybe next time you can show me some Galarian drinking traditions. I heard Hammerlocke whisky is something else.” Angelo grins, clearly interested in trying a liquor he has no hope of ever affording. Maybe Remy has a half-bottle of that stashed away in the soup kitchen, too. 


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+ Remiel Calcifet