<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/79/Dotley-Ramon-01.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>Ramon de la Rosa (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=324741.msg15579446#msg15579446)<br/><strong>Date and Time:</strong>July 20th || 10amish<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Helene’s Cafe<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Marc<br/><strong>Open/Close:</strong>Open-ish/Closed-ish — Ask First<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Tailored Suit & Expensive Accessories<br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong>N/a<br/><br/>Marc trilled the<em>R</em>of Ramon’s name.<br/><br/>It brought a fond smile to Ramon’s mouth and sent a little tickle down his spine. Marc’s Spanish had never been as good as Ramon’s. As kids, it’d been one of the things they shared that Ramon was better at. Ramon’s mother hadn’t been able to give him much, but she’d been able to give him the gift of bilingualism. She’d raised him in Spanish. Only in Spanish. They’d been a Spanish speaking household in every sense of the term. His mama had absolutely hounded him about it. The defining phrase of his childhood?<em>En español, mi hijo</em>. As a boyish teenager he’d rolled his eyes at her stubbornness, but as a grownup man he was grateful for her persistence.<br/><br/>Ramon loved the language. Loved speaking it. Loved hearing it. Most of all he loved the fact that he spoke it so fluently that people rarely pegged it as his second language. Marc spoke Spanish well enough. He could, after all, trill those R’s when he wanted, but there was a — it was difficult to describe. Ramon could only call it<em>secondhand</em>sort of feeling to Marc’s voice when he spoke in Spanish. It was as if something about the language was just a little too loose or a bit too tight for him. Readywear Spanish. Whereas Ramon spoke the language as if it’d been measured and cut just for him. Tailored Spanish.<br/><br/>His fluency and confidence with Spanish was the reason why their parents had cultivated their friendship in the first place. All their play and conversation had been en español. It’d taken a while, but eventually the forced friendliness had shifted into an actual friendship. In both Spanish and in English. Ramon’s supposed that’s what made their fight and falling out so painful. He’d considered Marc his best friend at one point.<br/><br/>Ramon didn’t realize how much he’d missed his friend. Not until Marc stood in front of him and admitted it first.<br/><br/>“Igualmente, mi mayor amigo.”<br/><br/>The new softness in Ramon’s voice matched the softening of his expression. He didn’t hold onto it,  but he didn’t try to suppress it. Ramon just let it come and go. He didn’t try to stifle his laugh either as Marc commented on his height. Ramon thought it would be awkward or strange to be around Marc after all those years, but it wasn’t. Not at all. Easy smile. Easy laughter. Easy words.<br/><br/>“Fine,” Ramon decided with a light sigh. “Let’s reconnect.”<br/><br/>Ramon stepped up to the counter and placed his order. A caffè macchiato with extra whipped cream and an extra shot of espresso. Ramon deserved it. He could still feel the lingering grip of jet lag over his body. Hopefully an overdose of sugar and caffeine would chase the last of it away.<br/><br/>“And shut up. I did, in fact get taller,” Ramon answered with an arched eyebrow as he looked at Marc, “but so did you. Christ, Marc. You aren’t just as tall as a tree, it’s like you’re trying to transform into one. Look at those branches.”<br/><br/>Ramon lifted his hand and gently poked the muscle of Marc’s arm with his index finger. His playful admiration of Marc only lasted until the barista served up his drink. Finally. Ramon picked up his cup and followed the other man back to his table.<br/><br/>“So, you’re living in New York? I remember those winters — can’t say I miss them.” There was a lot about that particular city that Ramon didn’t miss. “What else do you hate about it? Please, do speak freely. As a former New Yorker and current, proud Angeleno I’m always up for a good bitch about that place.”