"More of jus' a general truck," Bo offered, adding a shrug to punctuate it. They did do a fair amount of drinks, Bo did have to agree with that much. Didn't really matter too much: they were still getting drinks there. In actuality, Bo was probably going to grab something to munch on too; maybe some nachos or fries or something along those lines.
They were already close to the line at this point, which fortunately wasn't too horribly awful (though definitely existed). "It's worth the five bucks," Bo said, putting his hands into his pockets. "An' don't get too riled up 'bout the cheap comment; jus' gettin' yer--" Bo paused, mostly because he could see the little guy making some other comment in there, and something in his look.
Charms? "Wait, were we supposed to be flirtin'? Damn, missed the signs." Bo shrugged, then looked ahead. "Or is that jus' yer way of sayin' I should be buyin' you a drink an' enjoyin' the pleasure of your company? Did already offer, so it ain't no skin off my nose." Another shrug, and another step closer to the truck.
Post by Michael Miller on Nov 24, 2016 3:25:57 GMT
Michael figured as much about the truck. Unless it was a small cart and it was not as he could now see it, no food truck would have only juices. That was his opinion at least, but it would not be the first time he was to find out to be wrong. There was a place selling only juices at the mall after all. Except it also sold smoothies, but he supposed it was close enough. But in a place like a mall, it made sense. Outside, a lot less.
The line was not too long but Michael took this time to look around in case he’d see the ugly Mr Orange Shirt in the area. He couldn’t see him. He relaxed at this. He’d still stick to Bo, just to be sure. Plus, they were getting close and would have to order soon. Michael wouldn’t feel bad about ditching him in other circumstances but he could still need him and he’d prefer to have the guy around rather than run back to him. He could easily be outrun after all.
Michael could have just slammed his head against a wall with that one. “Well, at least you’re not saying no,” he mumbled. Michael was only mildly surprised. His gaydar was not the best but he apparently got it right this time. “My company is very enjoyable if that is what you want,” Michael assured him, giving him a warmer smile this time than any of those he had already. Even his tone was less sarcastic and abandoned the cheekiness. “I’ll admit I’m mostly here with you in case the idiot from before wished to see if I’m still brave without my big friend around,” he added. He still got a step closer to Bo though, leaving to Bo the choice of seeing a sign in that or not.
The line was at least inching forward, so they had that much going for them. Bo was used to the shuffle, and it was going in bursts if you looked at it, really. "Should i really be takin' yer word for it on how companionable ya are?" Bo asked, chuckling again. He did find the confidence somewhat appealing ,and there was something attractive in Michael. The little guy still struck Bo as being entirely too similar to a poodle: all walk and bark but no bite.
"Kinda figured," Bo admitted. "Ain't no skin off my nose. Normally I'm all about livin' an' lettin' live, but sounded like the guy was askin' to get his nose broke,' Bo scratched at his stubble while they shuffled forward yet again. "You'd better take a gander at the menu, figure out what yer gonna order when we get close."
Another shuffle, and Bo had already figured out what he was getting. Might as well get something to munch on along with the drink after all.
Post by Michael Miller on Nov 25, 2016 0:00:35 GMT
Bo seemed to question just how good a company Michael really was. “Don’t get misguided by the little encounter with that other guy. That happened because someone thought being fashionable meant you’re gay. I mean, it’s true on my part, but that didn’t need to sound like an insult. I’m very pleasant otherwise,” Michael assured him, giving him his most angelic look possible. The fact he had a sharp tongue and made things worse was greatly brushed over, something he would always do. He didn’t think it deserved a beating. But that probably had to do with the fact he hated doing dirty work.
He didn’t take an offense in Michael’s truth. Good. Because he didn’t want Bo to leave. That would mean he’d have to find someone else. Plus, in public like that, if Bo were to leave, that would damage Michael’s ego and he valued his ego about as much as he hated getting marks on his body. “He sure did,” Michael agreed. Not that he would have broken the guy’s nose, but he could find pleasure in watching another guy do it for him. His smiled turned devilish as he looked at Bo. “You’re free to do it if you meet him again, no objection on my part.”
“You can just get me a Coke or some soda, I’m not picky,” he told him. This was far from the truth, Michael was pretty difficult about a lot of things, he just happened not to really mind what he’d get. Bringing out what happened constantly kept him on edge a bit.
Bo chuckled a little. "No, that ain't a qualifier," he drawled, just letting that lay there for a bit. He did think he was at least halfway decent at flirting, even if there was still bits of his old country presence that told him to avoid boys, but he knew that there was a big difference between the two of them. Bo rolled a shoulder again, taking another step forward.
They did agree on the guy, at least. Michael probably would've suggested hitting him himself if the guy looked like the type. That he didn't didn't bother Bo any; let people handle their problems in their own way. He simply nodded as Michael essentially gave him permission.
"You ain't gettin' no damn coke here,' Bo retorted almost immediately, adding a slight snort. "This place has got some homemade drinks an' all, so find one that sounds halfway decent. I'm gonna try one of the lemonades m'self. Probably get somethin' to munch on too." They were close to the front of the line, close enough for Bo to raise a hand in greeting to one of the girls in the truck, who smiled and waved back.
Post by Michael Miller on Nov 26, 2016 17:16:52 GMT
It was hard to judge someone’s personality when you see them on a bad day. True, this teasing side was pretty much his dominant one, and it often got him in trouble, but he didn’t need to appear like the short one with a Napoleon complex. Or the one who needed tougher guys to win his battle for him. His ego couldn’t take neither. He also had nothing admitting he was gay. If Bo didn’t get it by now, he was pretty thick in the head. He also assumed Bo was too, or at least bisexual. That meant his gaydar wasn’t so bad. It could get pretty wrong at times. All it needed was for the guy to be pretty hot and it stopped working.
Michael really wanted to forget the other guy and was close to that. He was not around anymore, which helped greatly for his memory to erase him. And seeing as how Bo did not object punching the guy was not something to do, Michael sort of assumed he could do it should the guy get in his way and open his big mouth again. Michael was content with that. But he was also fine with him just walking away. Even if the other one retreated, he still counted it as a victory.
“Ah yeah, right.” Michael totally forgot. Homemade drinks. Wouldn’t sell competition then, right? He looked at the menu at the top. “One of those smoothies then. The berries one.” Bo should be glad he didn’t pick the most expensive thing without looking at more than that. But he also didn’t pick the cheapest stuff either. He noticed the waving on both sides. “My, you’re real popular around here.” There was a bit of sarcasm in his voice. It was weird for him not to be the popular one, even if he understood why in this case and had no intention on being well known in the world of food trucks.
"Smoothie? Suppose I shoulda figured," Bo took that last step, soon exchanging some pleasantries with the workers behind there. It didn't take long for Bo to learn that they had some sweet potato fries on hand, celebrating the holidays and all that. He ordered some of them along with the drinks, reaching into his wallet and pulling out some crumbled bills that looked like he'd run them through the washer a few times before sticking them in there.
"Kinda know most of the folks that make food 'round here," Bo offered as he held out the food. "Helps to keep track of each other. That an' we often buy from the same places an' all." Change passed, and Bo dumped most of what he got into a tip jar before gesturing for Micheal to join him in stepping aside. The Southerner tapped the menu behind them.
"Got them their specialty smoothie. Can see all the stuff they put in it here. Get it sometimes, so you should be fine,' Bo nodded, then leaned against the truck, enjoying the slight vibration he could feel thrumming against his back.
Post by Michael Miller on Nov 30, 2016 2:46:36 GMT
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael asked after this comment about the smoothie. He was not really offended but didn’t quite get what he was supposed to figure out of him with a smoothie. If that meant he was smooth... well, that would be stupid and a clumsy way to flirt with him, but he could still work with that. “And what lemonade is supposed to say about you?” he asked also, his cheeky side coming back some as he did so. He let Bo do the talking. Michael would never act like this with the workers, even if he knew them better and they could guess what he’d order before he opened his mouth. He didn’t pay too much attention, only enough to have an idea what was going on and to count just how long the man paid attention to someone else than him. Apparently, between him and sweet potatoes, Michael had no chance.
Bo explained how he learned to know these people. Michael was not even relieved to know it wasn’t because he ordered from here regularly. That did bring another question though. “You a cook or something?” He did say he bought from the same places, which even Michael could understand meant for the food truck. As their order arrived, Michael let Bo pick his things before grabbing his smoothie. Bo didn’t go very far from the line, resting his back against the truck. Michael stuffed a straw into his drink and stood facing him.
“Does that mean I have to thank you for this one?” he asked, raising his drink to his eye level. Bo really sounded like a regular of this place, almost as though he owned it or something. “You really spend too much time here,” he let out before taking a sip of his smoothie.
"What?" Bo asked, smiling and turning Micheal's way, "you sayin' you ain't smooth an' sweet?" See, he did know how to flirt, if a little. Now he was fairly certain it was safe to at least toss out a few comments to that end. "An' lemonade shows I like the classics," he replied, his smile not fading.
Soon enough he had the food in hand, and was nodding in answer to another question. "Cook at the school," he said, jerking his head toward Bellefonte. Most people would know precisely what Bo meant by "the school" anyway. There were a few other places in town that were technically places of education and all, but "the school" could only mean one place. Bo grabbed a fry, enjoying the bite and the flavor.
"Oughta be thankin' them," Bo said, nodding toward the truck as he adjusted his grip and took a sip of his drink. "I jus' bought it from you," he shifted again. "An' I know most of the people that cook 'round here. Run in the same circles, buy from the same people an' all," Bo shrugged. It was just a matter of proximity and similarity, really.
As Michael first though, Bo said that in order to be smooth and point out how smooth he was himself. And... sweet? “Don’t think sweet’s something people normally call me,” Michael let out. He didn’t wholly dislike it. But he was certain they found he was too devilish to be called sweet. At the very least, Bo was flattering him and Michael never had enough of that. Then came what lemonade meant and it made him smirk. “Or that you love wasting all your pocket change on little girls’ stands.” Michael never had a lemonade stand. But he never had a stand to begin with, or did any garage sale. He didn't like giving away his things. If he had to, he preferred not to see who ended up with it. He might not like it.
“The school, really?” Now, that was interesting. As Bo expected, Michael didn’t ask which school. If he was from any more ‘normal’ educational institution of Kalispell, he’d likely give out the name of the place. The school could only mean one. Unless they opened The School High School or something. “Well, I won’t have to worry about going back home then, if we’re going the same way.” Yes, Michael still considered Bo as the bodyguard he turned him into.
Michael didn’t mind sharing he was from Bellefonte. It was no shameful secret. He also had no scruples about flirting with a staff member. It was just the cook. And he was legal. Bo might get in trouble if he paid him a beer but he could take him all night long without anyone having something to say about it. The school’s administration might, but Michael was not a tattle tale. If he was, he could tell them far worse than a cook paying a drink to a college boy. “Just so I could tell what kind of cook you are, yesterday, for dinner, you were the one who prepared the pasta salad or those grilled chicken brochette thingies? Because if you made the salad, you are a menace to society but if you did the chicken, you might just be worth something after all,” Michael questioned, leaning against the truck next to Bo and looking up at him. If he wanted to look badass however, sipping through the straw of his smoothie ruined it all. But bratty might still be possible.
Bo shrugged. He could see why people wouldn't think Micheal sweet overall, and he had to admit that even he'd been trying to be a bit cute with it. It was a bit of a line, after all. It seemed that Michael sort of understood that, what with the smirk and the semi-snide comment regarding lemonade stands. "Gotta support your local business," Bo drawled, grinning and taking a sip of his drink.
Yes, Bo worked at the school, something he confirmed with a nod that probably wasn't strictly necessary. The bit about heading home had him arching his brows somewhat. He wasn't all that surprised, as it often seemed like he ran into someone from the school about every time he headed out, but there was at least some shock there. "You tryin' to get me to go home with you already? always told me some people move fast, but usually dinner comes first," he offered, drawling out the words as he finished. That was definitely flirting, right? It certainly felt like it should be.
Seemed like it should be shifting here pretty soon, considering the next statement: "Both," Bo said, shrugging. "I mostly did the chicken an' all, since I'm usually handlin' meat. I think I mighta passed the salad off to someone else? or it was somethin' left over? Why would you get both of those at once anyway; weren't meant to be eaten together," they always had at least two options for meals, after all, and Bo was pretty sure that was crossing streams there or something along those lines.
Post by Michael Miller on Dec 3, 2016 16:38:20 GMT
Michael didn’t really care about people thinking he was not sweet. He knew he had an impish nature. He was also aware there was something about him that made many people shrug it off and excuse him for the things he said, no matter how terrible. As long as it remained this way, he didn’t quite care if people assumed he was more devil than angel. Bo, Bo could be called sweet. Gullible too, if he really paid lemonade from children’s stands.
For once, Michael didn’t mean anything sexual. It explained why he blinked when Bo talked of it and dinner. Then he realised. Should have figured out sooner, but he was thinking too much about keeping him near until he was back to the school to really focus on this. Now that it was brought up however, Michael gave himself the time to think of it and came to the conclusion that he had much worse and could easily do that. He didn't have very high expectations from it however. “Well...” he began to say before reaching out in Bo’s cup of sweet potatoes fries and picking one to taste. “I’d say you got your food right there. Not that bad either,” he said as he reached for another. It tasted less good with the smoothie though.
Michael shrugged at the statement about the food. He knew they weren’t meant to go together but he was not going to let Bo assume he was some ogre eating everything on the menu. “I just took a little bit. I was curious, never seen pasta with that shape.” And he ate a lot of pasta in his life, but maybe not a lot of variety of those. “I think it was the sauce thing in it? Like vinegar or something? Not good.” It was his opinion and he figured, since the food was made for the student, that his opinion had some value here, if not the most valuable one.
Bo tilted the sweet potatoes toward Michael (his date?), letting him have a sample. They were definitely good, and he took another bite himself. It probably would've gone better with a spicy drink, something heavier than the lemonade Bo had in hand now. He took a sip of the drink all the same, breaking to chuckle as Michel continued.
"Well, the dishes are made with flavor combos in mind," he said. "It's how you plan a menu an' all. Like take this here truck," he gestured, "they offer up salty snacks an' greasy food to go with their whole mixed drink thing, an' it works for them," he held up a fry as an example, before popping it into his mouth. "So if you'd had the right combo, it'd probably have worked better."
Bo chewed contemplatively, before shrugging. 'Or that was some leftover stuff we were tryin' to shovel off on the students that'll eat jus 'bout anythin'. I ain't always in charge of servin'."
Post by Michael Miller on Dec 8, 2016 18:27:37 GMT
Bo could consider him any way he wanted. He personally didn’t think it would lead anywhere, but that was mostly the circumstances that suggested it. That, and the fact Michael didn’t see Bo as a guy he’d jump on at the first occasion he had. There was still a chance but he somehow doubted that guy was the type to sleep on the first night. Well, afternoon. Who cared!
He even seemed more interested to talk about food, something Michael didn't mind to humour but still found boring. He was given a lesson on mixing and matching flavours not only in the meal but with everyone else, drinks, side-dishes and all. “Like fries and lemonade?” Michael retorted with some skepticism as he looked at what Bo picked. Didn’t sound that good of a match, albeit a better one than his smoothie. “Maybe, but it’s not like they offered it only in the right combo. Plus, like I said, I only wanted to try. Next time, I’ll know better and just steer clear of it.” Bo pointed out it could also be some leftovers they cooked up together, even pointing out he was not the only cook in the kitchen. “Don’t worry, everyone can make one bad dish. At least your brochettes were good. I’d order that again.” While this could be considered Michael’s way of making it easier on the poor man’s ego, there was also something teasing in his tone of voice, suggesting Bo didn’t have to take any of what he said seriously, both now and before.
Michael returned to his smoothie while the line of customers for the food truck thinned out. The workers would be allowed a short break soon. This reminded him how he didn’t plan to be here in the first place and made him feel bored. It was too quiet, he wasn’t so good with quiet. Even when studying or reading or doing nothing, he needed some sound, the television on or music playing. He didn’t get that. And, more importantly, no one was paying attention to him. He should consider heading back soon. This made him sigh. “You had anything else to do? Because, if you do, I’d just stick around until I can catch a bus, then you’ll be free.” He turned his gaze towards Bo and gave him an amused smile. “You were a good guard dog, I’ll have to remember that next time I’m in a jam.”
"Naw, this ain't a good combo at all," Bo drawled. "But sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants." Michael just kept right on going, pretty well insisting that Bo had probably had something to do with that awful pasta dish. The Southerner just had to shrug; after all, Michael was pretty much right: sometimes a dish didn't work out too well. He'd already put up the logical explanations, so at this point, it really was down to "I didn't do a great job," which he just had to handle. He took another sip and went back to the fries, definitely enjoying both flavors, separately if not together.
Bo did notice Michael looking around, and he got that rabbit, prey sort of feeling from the poor little guy. "They ain't gonna--" he began, only to stop as Michael apparently started talking at about the same time. "Well, I was mostly jus' lookin' around, holiday window shoppin' an' all," Bo shrugged. It wasn't as if he'd been dedicated to doing anything, had a plan all laid out or anything like that. "An' I suppose Bo is a good name for a dog," he ate another fry, before tilting the rapidly depleting box toward Michael. "You got anythin' you're wantin' to do? I could waste some more time if you had some shoppin' or somethin'. Look like you'd go through some product, mane like that," he nodded and pointed to Michael's hair with his free hand, grinning all the while.