those are /my/ cardboard fries mme.

Tristan wasn’t used to going to a club or a bar without knowing people or going with somebody. He could easily meet new people and mingle but they probably wouldn’t understand most of his words and be too drunk to try to. He felt pretty alone in this city. He needed to find some mates and possibly a lady or two.

Tristan looked down at his fries and contemplated throwing them away. They were pretty much his only excuse for staying here. They looked like yellow paper covered in grease and thrown into a fryer. Disgusting.

Tristan blinked a few times and back tracked in his brain. When did he get so negative? Maybe he should mingle a bit. Cure the pessimistic loneliness. As he contemplated this a tiny hand with black and hot pink fingernail polish stole his plate and began to eat his fries.

Tristan looked up to see Janie Blake, one of his tutor students from Baum. What was she doing here?

"So, What's up?"

“Ummm… sure you can ‘ave them. I can’t imagine why.” He laughed looking at her face. Her eyes were red and she smelled like the back alley of his apartment. You wouldn’t think Janie smoked marijuana but after about two study sessions where she showed up stoned, Tristan started to figure it out.

“I waz just thinking I needed to ‘ave sum fun and ‘ere you ah!” he smiled.

"Ya know, frenchie, I think these fries are pretty good,"

Tristan made a disgusted face, "They tazte like cardboard," he grumbled. He missed his mother's home cooked meals. She warned him the food was bad outside of Montreal but he wanted to go see the U.S.

Now he can't even get a stinking beer so that he doesn't care anymore like the Ms. Blake here. She wasn't drunk but on something that made everything taste good. Not that Tristan wanted any, he didn't smoke.

"Aff--hungry?" he said his eyes lighting up. "I waz jus abow to go back to meh apartment for dinner. Maybe you could join me and tazte real food. That iz if you are able to walk... " he said. He hadn't cooked food for anyone since his roommate dropped out and moved back home. This would be an chance to try out some new recipes.

"What brings you down here, Tristan?"

"Lonelinez I guez. I haven't been to a party sinze I moved into my apartment," Tristan pouted, "and then I come here and they say I can't drink. This country has no claz." he grumbled.

"What about you? Juz hungry?"

And the next thing he knew, the small framed teenage girl was smothering him.

She laughed. It was such a pretty, delicate laugh. It suited her wonderfully. "Thank youuuu! I'll totally pay you back!" Tristan wasn't expecting this kind of reaction. He usually was the one with the gratitude. He smiled and gave her a light hug back.

"Nonono, it will be my pleazure. I love to cook. I'd cook for everyone if I could get my ingredients for free." he said a huge smile forming on his face.

Tristan started to plan out recipes in his head. What would take less then and hour? Maybe a cake or home-made ice cream. He could make her some real fries or hard candy. Maybe a crepe? His head spun with all the possibilities. It made him giddy to think about cooking for someone. Especially when that someone would most likely eat all of his food.

"If it's any consolation, your hair is, like, the softest thing ever,"

Tristan chuckled. He ran his fingers through his hair and called for the check. The waiter came over and looked at Janie. He then gave Tristan the check and an expression that read, "have fun." and a thumbs up. Tristan stared blankly at the man and then it dawned on him. This man thought... nonono. This girl was his student. He turned around to set the man straight and saw that he had disappeared.

"I'm actually gettin' kinda sleepy now..."

"Maybe we can do thiz some other day then. Where do you live? I'll take you 'ome," he said putting money on the table.