I write. This is my personal blog where I can write both original stories and from various fandoms.Fiction Questions
I know this is the third one, but I like it better than the first two so far. I can do it out of order if I want to. It’s not my fault I’m a bad writer.
Near wrinkled his nose at the sight of the mass on the fork before his lips; sometimes he wondered if Gevanni thought him a toddler, unable to feed himself.
But, taking a tactful approach, he tried to bring this to an end as soon as he could. “I do not like dishes that contain ricotta cheese.”
“I know you don’t. That’s why I made it with provolone and mozzarella.” Gevanni replied, his Italian accent slipping into his English. “Just try it.”
A skeptical look came to Near’s face. While he did appreciate the effort Gevanni put forth to make something he liked, he was working, and didn’t like overlapping activities that required a good deal of attention.
However, his skeptical look was met by a forceful smile from the brunette, and Near had the feeling he wasn’t about to get away with ignoring such an act of kindness. The genius studied his subordinates’ face. The situation was much like the mourning family of a victim, there was no reason to deny them comfort; so, Near didn’t see the need to pursue a battle.
“Alright, fine.” Near opened his mouth in surrender.
Gevanni smiled and put the loaded fork into his boss’ mouth. Relief flooded his features when said boss didn’t spit it out.
Food was formulaic in Near’s mind. Lasagna was nothing more than pasta layered with a sauce—which sometimes contained meat—and various cheeses. In addition, eating was never an activity that Near particularly enjoyed; it was a requirement of survival. Of course, Gevanni didn’t see it that way. The brunette saw food as something to be enjoyed, since eating in and of itself was an experience. Again, his Italian was seeping through for the world to see.
The whitette’s tongue was ravaged by a complex arrangement of tastes and textures. He was sure that he tasted garlic, as he pulled the clumped food from the fork, as well as some sort of sausage. It was strange, but not unpleasant. The lasagna felt strange against his tongue, it was like the first time Near attempted to read another language; beginning with frustration for the size of what had to fill his mouth, but with time, understanding lead him to savor the experience. He wasn’t disappointed. He finished chewing and swallowed.
A patient but expectant look was on Gevanni’s face. Near looked back toward his computer that had a 218 page document he needed for the case he’d taken that morning.
“Okay.” He surrendered completely, pushing his rolling chair away from his computer. “Bring me a plate.”