Re: Kit/Mari/Dinah/Cris: the convenience store
There was some talk exchanged. Hi's and agreement to go outside, posited as a question to the jumpy conejita, and el gringito here was doing some serious side-eyeing. Mari was close, plucking up maduro and savoring it, and Cris grinned at her, nothing shy 'bout it. "Espera, ¿es un cumplido? Gracias, mami." The hooka Cris' smile stayed as conejita come up to the counter too. Cris pointed out the plates/flatware with a nodda his chin. "I made this," he confirmed without solemnity. "No problem—" The phrase and its attendant endearment were bitten off there, but Cris managed to do it without it being real obvious.
He walked his way out from behind the counter. His own gait was the confident masculinity that took stuff on the chin, 'cause, at the enda the day, he was still seen as a threat just for walking around. You could either play nice and demure, or you went outta your way (until it was habit) to take up space as a 'fuck you' to the world. Cris was a 'fuck you' guy. He scratched at his chin with a thumbnail, then, coming up on the other sidea Mari. He brought, amid the scenta Cuban food and spices, a dabba cologne with him as he reached over to grab his clock piece. His was a side. He turned it over in his palms, then offered it up to la Jefa, when she was done stabbing at food for a second. He leaned against the counter with his hip and elbow, close enough to smell the grinda coffee beans coming offa Mari's cup. He looked 'round the women to Kit. "They ain't gonna bite you," he teased. "Well, maybe, but it'll heal. You like plantains?"