Riley was over the moon that his friend liked the brisket - it was a Texas tradition that he missed terribly, one that was not treated with as much gusto so far North as it should. He should have opened a restaurant for as little good food they had in Washington. Maybe in his next lifetime.
Accepting the fork, another bite was taken. A soft mumble of satisfaction left him. It was melting in his mouth, he couldn’t help it. “See that guy there?” Riley said, motioning toward the violinist, “That’s my boyfriend, Finn. He’s so good at the violin. Like, he could have gone pro, you know what I mean?”