#This thread gives me so much happiness. Ty for letting me write w/ Nadine :pleading:

[ofhope]

“Really? Three freakin' hours?” there's a laugh, but not at their expense. “Damn. You'd think she would'a gotten the idea after the first thirty minutes.”

A sort of familiarity. Kanji'd never really liked the feel of a dress, but always liked looking at 'em. Age ten? His Ma' would take him around stores, point out what shops used their threads, their patterns, what ones didn't. These thoughts were kept inward, not lured out by a chance comment, but there were tinges of guilt forming; Kanji and Nadine, their relationships with their mothers differed. In fact? His Ma' had discouraged some of his 'manlier' traits, the bruised knuckles and foul mouth.

Somedays, she probably would'a rather him work on a dress than bloody his new jacket.

“Get that. Think a lotta' people just wanna' make themselves comfortable. We're the ones wearing the damn things, why the hell do we gotta' think about them? They think if, for a moment, these clunky-ass boots strained my ankle or some shit I wouldn't swap 'em out for those ugly-ass clog things they got going on now? Shouldn't matter what they think.”

Leaning back, said boot tapped against the concrete. Such discussions always riled him up, got a headache stirring and a fresh rush of annoyance racing through his veins, but... it felt good to have someone to match that same intensity. Scratching at his neck, Kanji cleared his throat a little too loudly.

“I uh, like your style. S'not often I get people agreein' with me on things like this. Being manly, being girly... who the hell thought up that stuff anyway? There's a uh, sort of nuance to it. Even if that person had like, issues accepting they liked the color pink or some shit, why'd they have to put all of us through their midlife crisis too?”

Hands go up, though, they don’t really mind how rough he is around the edges. They’re rough around the edges, too. At the box comment, they laugh, not because they think it’s dumb, but because they have spent their entire life with everyone trying to fit them somewhere. Some people just aren’t made for boxes.

“I think people who do that shit are just pretending to care, anyways. Total difference. Like, my mom once when I was like, ten? She spent literally. Three hours. Trying to get me to put on a dress.” It had been terrible at the time, but now they’re able to laugh. They skip another stone.

“Said I’d be more presentable, or likable, or something? I don’t really remember. Anyways, I think she just cared about making it easier for her to deal with me. But like, that’s not really caring.” Nadine shrugs. Another attempt at rock skipping, but this one immediately sinks. There’s an annoyed sigh.

“Fuck boxes.” They say, just a little too loudly. Volume control has never been their strong suit. “And fuck being manly, or girly, or whatever. Pretty sure some fucker just made that up one day.”