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[acaseofyou]

they say that death is a tragedy it comes once, and it's over

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[yeahmagnets]

i'll never say no to tacos

[acaseofyou]

I figured that might be the answer.

Give me like thirty minutes.
Make that an hour I don't know if I remember how to get to your place.

[yeahmagnets]

the address is 9809 margo st if that helps.

[acaseofyou]

Yeah, it does!
I'll honk at the gate so you can open it for me.

[ And off she goes. Birdie has not properly eaten in fifty years, which means she has no idea what's good to order. Lucky for Jesse, that means when she honks at the gate about 45 minutes later, he's gonna get so many tacos that are sitting in a big bag on her passenger seat. Probably a quesadilla in there, too, who knows. ]

[yeahmagnets]

cool i'll be here

[ It's not too long before Jesse hears the distinct sound of a car horn blaring briefly through the windows. His eyes dart towards the window from the futon and when he notices the diffuse glare of headlights, he gets up and walks to the door. Jesse unlocks it, tugging open the heavy wooden door, being sure it doesn't slam shut behind him. He crosses his arms over his chest, bracing against the chill of the night air as he scurries over to the gate to open it for Birdie. He waves, a smile slowly forming itself on his face when he sees her.

It's nice to have company. Tacos are always appreciated, too, but those are secondary. Sure, he has a couple of friends and a whole lot of acquaintances, but there aren't really any that he can count on for a jam session and dinner these days. It's a welcome change.

He shuts the creaky gate once Birdie pulls her car into the driveway, rubbing his chilly hands together as he walks over to her window. ]

Want me to bring the food in?

[ It's the least he can do. ]

[acaseofyou]

[ Birdie smiles and waves as she pulls in, window down and hair a little windswept. Once she's past the gate, she parks and turns the car off, window still down. The chill doesn't bother her much, though she's dressed casual and layered, jeans and shirt and some old fabric jacket with old peacenik pins on the lapel. ]

Sure, here-- [ She hands Jesse the bag through the window (still warm, though it's probably not entirely freshly made) before she opens the door and steps out herself. There aren't many people here she knows yet, but there's an ever-present drive to connect.

Tacos and jam sessions are a helpful shortcut for it, more genuine than just holding an audience enthralled. ]

You might want to hold the bottom, I don't know how strong those bags are.

[ Once she's out, she grabs her guitar from the backseat and makes to follow him up to the house. ]

[yeahmagnets]

Yeah, I don't know why they even use these flimsy paper bags. Half the time the bottom falls out, or the handles rip off. Total tragedy, yo.

[ Jesse speaks as he takes the bag that Birdie hands to him. He makes sure to cradle the bottom of the bag with an arm, feeling the warmth emanating from it. ]

Sweet, it's still hot even.

[ Props to the delivery lady. He walks slow, lingering so Birdie can catch up. He pulls the door open, leaning against it to hold it open as Birdie walks in. A shove with his foot, and the door swings shut. The house is decorated the same way a middle-aged woman may have decorated it years ago. There are floral prints on the furniture, long lacy curtains covering the windows dingy with years of cigarette smoke swirling through them.

He sets the bag of food down carefully on the coffee table, picking up some odds and ends that are cluttering the surface and scurrying into the kitchen to shove them on the table in there. It's not filthy or anything, but his scatter-brained state as of late shows in the way things seem to have been forgotten here and there, not much order to where things are placed aside from the dusty remnants of decor left behind by his late aunt. ]

Want anything to drink? I think I got a few beers, water. Might have some Mountain Dew left.