Dante's best friend from back home, or brother as he likes to remind everyone, Jason drove into town earlier tonight. He asked me to hang around Dante's place to help unload everything Dante's parents sent for him, including an obscenely large Paella pot.
"You can cook a baby in that!" I pointed out.
Dante warned me about Jason's lack of tact before he arrived but I assured him I could hold me own. I had to teach Jason a prompt lesson when the first thing he said to me was, "You must be Dante's faggot."
I was gracious yet firm as I introduced myself by my proper name and told him to use it from now on so we don't get off on the wrong foot. I'm a firm believer of nipping it in the bud.
Smooth sailings after that. Kinda. Dante locked the keys inside the apartment while we were unpacking Jason's truck. I was the only one small enough to fit through his bedroom window. I lost my wallet on the el last week and haven't gotten around to getting a new license so I wasn't able to join them for drinks and bar hopping. I decided to hang out at Dante's apartment since I had early breakfast plans in the morning and the parade at Grant park afterwards. I'm still getting used to public transportation and not really up for all that back and forth between Dante's place and mine.