Who: Enjolras and Summer What: A match-up of spaghetti and meatballs proportions When: Early Thursday afternoon Where: On the streets near Walmart Status: Complete
It was early that morning when he realized that he'd nearly forgotten Grantaire's birthday.
Sure, they'd never been particularly close. But Enjolras had an excellent memory, and he had committed the birth dates of all the Amis to his. Even the drunk who sat in the corner obnoxiously taunting him. And here, well... They may not have been the closest of friends, but they were trying. There were clearly a few roadblocks in their lives but they were making an effort. And since Grantaire was one of the only friends he had in this place, he felt it necessary to treat him to a gift of some sort.
He got up, getting dressed in one of the comfortable pairs of jeans he had found and a long sleeved t-shirt. After a day of far more snow than he liked and a day which felt like summer, he grabbed a jacket as well. This city had proven itself strange more than once and he thought it might help to be prepared for anything. He didn't have an umbrella but they'd never used them in his time and he'd survived just fine. Never mind that the rain still made him a bit twitchy.
What he hadn't expected was to be almost to a store when the sky opened up again and neither rain, nor snow came out. Instead, a noodle. And then another noodle. Pasta hadn't been significant in his upbringing, other than a family visit to Italy. But since arriving here, it was one of the things he could safely cook. Out of the can, anyway. And he knew spaghetti and meatballs when he saw it. Especially when it was coming from the sky, splashing his otherwise clean shirt. "Seriously?" he yelped in surprise, ducking as another meatball came flying towards him. He'd have been embarrassed but everyone around him was getting pelted with sauce covered noodles as well. "Are you alright?" he asked the person closest to him as they got hit as well.