2019-11-06 - Oak Neighbours

Though the world is drab and drizzly outside, it smells all warm and lovely inside. Sparrow's heated up some leftover ratatouille, the pot still simmering on low on the stove even though she's already done with her own bowl. The redhead is camped out in the family room, on a couch, with her headphones on--and hearing nothing--and a laptop across her lap, backpack near at hand. Assuming that nobody's home, she croons out, "They tryna take all of your dreams, butcha can't allow it!" while she works.

"I wish I knew what song this was so that I could come in and be like in the movies where someone finishes your line!" sings Gabriel, or at least tries to figure out what the progression is, as he just walks into Seven Oak like some sort of murderer.

Murderer catching cop, that is. He's in his henley and jeans off-duty "uniform," coming over to Sparrow in the family room and leaning down to kiss her on the lips. "Hey, babe."

The quiet room was IN USE... Or so said the door. Not that it was quiet. Music was going on in there, something decidedly non-English and somewhat peppy. Yoga, not meditation, it would seem. Which of course means there's no concern about Sparrow's singing. But, then, there's someone coming over. So it's a moment or four, but the reclusive woman that is Monica opens the door and peeks her head out. Just in time to see a man pulling away from a kiss. Her brows furrow, then lift, and her eyes get big. So many questions! And, yes, this is better than Yoga.

So, Monica slips out. Her outfit consists of a black-and-neon pink sports bra and a matching black-and-neon pink pair of leggings. Bare feet, hair tied back, a slight glisten to her flesh. She was definitely getting her exercise on. "Heeeeey..." she says, curiously.

Wandering downstairs from the upper floor, Corey is in khaki cargo shorts and a vest with 'Do you even SIFT, bro?' on it, along with some bakery-related graphics. He meanders to the kitchen - obviously - and is just in time to see Gabriel plant one on his sister. Brows raise, and he skirts past them to get to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of coke. "Hey." That is to the room at large it would seem, to Sparrow and Monica at least. Probably also to the stranger.

Sparrow totally misses the made-up lyrics. Which is a shame. Surely, she'd be charmed. She just keeps on humming, though it's hard to be certain if it's in time with the music given how she's scrunching down at her laptop--which has a complicated spreadsheet on it--right up until she catches movement. Her smile goes wide and her headphones come down, Janelle Monae's Tightrope ringing out, all tinny and distant. "Hey," is soft, pleased, that look she turns toward Gabriel nothing short of adoring. Which might be why her cheeks go all bright when Monica peeks in. Or it could be because... just. Look at the Colombian! She's gorgeous! "Hi. Hey. Sorry. Didn't mean to--" Whatever. Thought goes unfinished as she chirps a cheerful, "C!" upon seeing her brother go past. "Have you met my brother?" she asks the detective then sets right into introductions. "Gabe, Monica, Corey. He's a gardener!" is probably for her brother, given the higher volume. Uh. She should probably turn her music off. Yeah. Click!

"Whether you're high or low," says Gabriel, once he learns what the song is, beaming at Sparrow until she startles at the presence of others in the room. Oh, look! It is, in fact, the gorgeous Colombian! And then there is Sparrow's brother. He just turns around and waves a hand at both of them. "Hey. Gabe Quintanilla. I live over at 11 Oak." And come over and spontaneously kiss Sparrow, it appears. "Good to meet you. Sparrow's said so much about you. Well, I mean, mostly about your beauty, Monica. But Corey. Hey. You've got to come over and see my yard. And vice versa." This is said with enthusiasm usually limited to, like, a classic-car collection.

Monica, who is The Most Gorgeous, spends a good long moment shamelessly staring. Gears churn. Conclusions drawn. Or maybe she's just totally out of it. Who's to say. But eventually she steps forward, and over toward the two. She spots Corey and throws him a smile, then looks back to Gabriel. "Quintanilla?" she asks, brows once again lifting. She stares a long moment, then she looks back to Sparrow, and back to Gabriel. She gives a soft laugh. "She just says stuff like that," she says, dismissively. No, not in the humble way, but in the of course I am sort of way. "Is that, like, euphemism...? 'Come see my lawn'?" she asks, eyeing Sparrow a new.

It would appear that Corey is not the kind of guy to get all macho and annoying about someone kissing his sister. Which is probably good for him, given Gabe is a cop. "Hey," he says again, this time with a smile towards the now-not-a-stranger, nodding. "Sure, I'd like that. Have you been out back here yet?" he asks, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the back yard, before leaning over to inspect Sparrow's warming-through of the ratatouille. "Is that the last of it?" he asks, glancing to Monica as well in case she knows. Because good lord, they had loads.

"Anytime you'd like," Sparrow croons up at Monica with a dopey little grin. Sure, it doesn't answer the question actually asked, but what'd be the fun in that. As it looks like she's not gonna get much more work done here, she starts packing up, saving her work and shoving both laptop and headset back into her backpack. The zipper closing underscores her murmur of, "I think this is your first time inside at all," to Gabriel with a touch of uncertainty. The house is definitely bigger than his, meant for a large family, probably with a dog or two. But it's a good place for college kids, too, evidently. Hand freed up, she reaches over to brush Gabe's leg, the contact brief, thoughtless. "Think so?" she calls back to Corey. She didn't dig into the recesses of the fridge, so there could be more, but it's probably it. Finally. "Still delicious!" Stage-whispered to the other two, she teases, "Better chef than gardener."

"That's my name, chica," says Gabe, in response to Monica, flashing her a grin that suggests he could do the rest of this in Spanish if she wanted. Sounds Mexican descent, maybe? He ignores the part about euphemism, though he does press his leg into Sparrow's touch, equally thoughtless.

"Yeah. No. First time in the house, actually. Had coffee on the porch, but." He shrugs. "It's nice. Bigger than mine." Of course, given that Gabe is the only one who lives in it, his is huge for his needs. "Would love to see, though." About the yard.

"Currently, well sculpted. Delightful little heart and everything," Monica says, to Sparrow, with a sweet smile. She then blows a kiss that way. Then she looks back to Corey, and shrugs. "I feel like-... you know, you eat some, and it just... there isn't any less of it?" The ratatouille. She then swings her gaze back to Gabriel, and she smiles. And stares. And considers. Before, finally, "Ella es ... tu novia?" she asks. Curious, curious!

"I know what you mean," Corey affirms to Monica, then looks back to Gabe. "Well, feel free to head back and take a look - it's nothing fancy, just planters with fruit and veg in." He sounds proud of it nonetheless though. He takes a sip of his cola. "I can always make more if we've run out," he then suggests, his tone dry, suspecting the household might well be sick of it by now.

Sparrow demonstrates not one little lick of shame for the way her gaze dips down along Monica's form to where that delightful little heart and everything might be. Lips parted, her tongue comes up behind her teeth, thoughtful, on the precipice of saying something, but nothing comes. Pushing up to her (rainbow-striped sock-footed) feet--the rest of her outfit more muted today, jeans with a white tee declaring her 'Made of Stars' in black lettering--she makes a face at Corey. Hadn't she just said it was still delicious? "I vote for pie if you feel the need to fill the fridge with something. Pumpkin pie. Did you see all the guts Bax and I stored up for you?" There might be a couple very contradictory pumpkins out on the porch right now: one with horrific razor-mawed eyes and a too-wide mouth... and one painted with Rainbow Brite in the style of ET. And there are pumpkin guts in the fridge. To Gabe, smile not quite as casual as she'd like, she asks, "You want something?" Probably from the kitchen.

At the question from Monica, Gabe shrugs. "She's a girl and she's my friend and we are together," he tells the Colombian in Spanish. Which is probably a roundabout way to say he and Sparrow are fuckbuddies, but more politely.

"Uh. Sure. Soda? Water? Hydration?" He throws it out generally for the Bird. And then, "Yeah. I'll go take a look in the other. And if you want to come over for dinner or breakfast on the weekend or sometime, I'll give the tour." Tour is probably a grand name for it. "Of course, headed to winter, it's just a lot of tree work, but ..."

"Eres tan afortunado!" Monica proclaims. Spanish, again. Though that 'afortunado' isn't that hard to translate, is it? She turns her eyes to watch Sparrow go. "She's super hot," she says, in English, in a whisper loud enough that everyone can hear. "But then again everyone in this house seems to have better luck than I do," she mutters, then flashes a pout. "Which, like, I have to be the least lucky person! I'm losing followers, like, left and right? And I can't-..." Her eyes find Corey, and she cuts herself off, with a smile, and a dismissive flap of a hand. "Do we have any more La Croix?" she asks, as she turns to follow Sparrow. Because she's sure not sticking around for garden talk.

"She's my sister," Corey reminds Monica, definitely not intending on agreeing with her comment. Sure, Sparrow is hot, but not to him. Since he's by the fridge, he grabs a bottle of cola for Gabriel and tosses it lightly to the other guy before doing likewise with fancy schmancy water for Monica. "So, to the garden," he suggests, beginning to stroll in the direction of the back door, simply assuming people will follow.

"Your super-hot sister," Sparrow teases Corey with a shrug. Just nothing to be done about it! She tilts in against Gabe to press a kiss to his cheek as she starts toward the fridge. It's to Monica that she's speaking as she points out, "You know where my door is, gorgeous. And if you come by on the right night..." Well, she might not be alone. Hell, is Alfie even sleeping in his own bed anymore? "Besides, didn't both Legs and London--" That'd be Ash and Garrett, identified by key characteristics instead of names she doesn't expect her roommate to have remembered. "--hit you up?" As the pair disappear into the kitchen, the intro to Doja Cat's Juicy, skillfully looped, is followed soon by a, "Blech," as the redhead looks down at her phone. Feeling like maybe she's the unlucky one, she just sighs and starts off in the other direction as she answers the call, the beginning of that conversation audible, "Hey. Yeah. Ri--yeah, but it's an alkaloid, so you gotta..." The door to the Quiet Room closes behind her blessedly muting the rest of that nerdiness.

Gabe snags the soda out of the air and holds it up in thanks. He waits for the Presumptive Explosive Period to pass and then cracks it open, following Corey on out to the yard. He goes glance over his shoulder at Monica when he walks, though. "Damn lucky," he agrees with her. "But if you ever wanted, I think Sparrow is utterly smitten with you so." He shrugs his shoulders. "And what are you on Instagram? I barely ever check, but I can add to the numbers."

"I wasn't talking to you..." Monica mutters, to herself, just barely audible. But then Sparrow is chiming in, so she flashes a smile to the redhead. Then, oh, a can of soda water. "Thaaaaank!" she chimes, with a sweet smile. Sparrow then looks over to Gabriel. "Oh! Yeah-... you can get my IG from Sparrow...?" she offers, but barely finishes the thought when Sparrow is talking. "Wait, what? Who hit me up?!" she sounds excited and confused and-... and Sparrow's on the phone. She's left staring at the direction the redhead went. Then she looks back at Gabriel... and Corey. "Uuuh-..." She starts to respond to the former's thoughts regarding Sparrow. But her eyes find the latter. She stares at Corey (or, well, the back of his head) for a long moment, then puts back on her smile. "Nice meeting you, Gabriel! I got to... you know... ciao!" And with that, she's heading not out to the garden, but further into the house, toward the stairs.

It probably is not surprising, given how nice the houses on Oak are, that there is a generous backyard. Solid oak decking takes up the first couple yards of garden length, with cheap wicker outdoor chairs set up around a metal table with a glass ashtray atop it. Multi-colored fairy lights are wound all around the wooden railing that encloses the deck, and down the handrails of the steps that lead down to the garden proper.

A crazy paving path meanders from those steps, all the way to the back fence, with lush green grass to either side of it for all but the last quarter. At this point, wooden planters take over, recently seeded with all kinds of fruit and vegetable seeds.

The evening air is pleasantly warm on this autumn night. The skies are clear and cloudless.

Leading the way out onto the deck, Corey then traipses down the steps and along the path towards the planters, his pride and joy. There's all sorts of veggies and things growing there (ignore that it says recent that was forever ago!), most of it now fruiting or ready to harvest.

"Oh, man," says Gabe, his smile blooming like the flowers when he spies all of the fruits and vegetables ready to harvest here. "I do flowers, not edibles, but these are beautiful, man." He says it with no sarcasm, squatting down to check out the ripe tomatoes on the vine. "Look at these. What are you using?" He looks over his shoulder. "Sparrow wasn't kidding."

Listing out some common brands of fertiliser and plant food, Corey glows at the praise, really proud of his plants. "Go ahead, have one if you want," he invites as Gabriel examines the tomatoes. "Cooking with stuff I've grown is sort of a thing for me. Not quite farm to plate, but garden to kitchen, at least."

Gabriel reaches down and picks off one of the tomatoes, right from the vine, shines it on his shirt, and takes a big bite, as if it were an apple or something. "Oh, man. Amazing." He gets to his feet, impressed. "So you're the cook over here, I take it? That's great. I mean, I can make a grilled cheese." But he doesn't have great chops in that department.

There's a lazy grin from Corey as he nods. "Yeah. I'm studying culinary science," he explains, which makes sense since Sparrow is also a student, albeit for a different discipline. "And honestly I make a lot of food, so if you're hungry and don't wanna cook, just come on by." Aw, neighbours.

"Hey. I appreciate that." And from the little grin on his lips, Gabe does, in fact, appreciate it. He takes another bite out of the tomato. "Your sister's really cool. Not sure I'd imagine hanging out with a bunch of college students, but." He shrugs his shoulders. "Life is short, you know? What are you thinking after school?" he asks, small-talkingly. "Head up to Seattle for one of the restaurants there?"

"Heading to Seattle, probably, but not for that. I want to work in a research and development kitchen," Corey explains, rolling his eyes. "Oh, so it's okay to bang one but not to hang with the rest of us? I see how it is."

"Wait, what?" asks Gabriel, confused. "No, I mean, I didn't expect that I would be hanging out with a bunch of college students. Banging or otherwise." He laughs at himself and shakes his head. "I went over to 9 Oak's Halloween party. Trying to be, you know, part of the community." The very drunk college student Oak community. "I appreciate you welcoming me over." A beat. "But hey, that's cool. So like -- food development? Building a better cheese slice?"

The chef's smile returns at that. "Oh, I get you. Yeah.. things got kinda messy," he acknowledges, amused. He nods at the food development comment. "You're the first person to have even a clue about what an R&D kitchen does," he notes, his smile slightly wry now. "But also, you know, better food without certain allergens in, or how to store things better so they last longer. That sort of thing."

"Hey. That's cool. Feels like everyone wants to, you know, be the next Food Network star or something. But you've got to figure there are more people working for Kraft or Mars or whatever than getting their own TV show." Gabriel polishes off the tomato and then looks at his phone. "Shit. I ought to get to the gym before heading into work. But, hey, Corey. Come on over some time and I'll show you the flowers before winter hits. And."

A pause.

"Thanks for being cool. Sparrow was right about you not being an asshole. Which you'd think you could take for granted about people, but." He shrugs. Obviously, you can't.