Commentary Crew One Shots (Memeulous, Imallexx, WillNe etc)

MemeNE - Gelato.

George was miserable. He was on a date. He was on a date and he was miserable.

Said date sat across from him, mouth opening and closing, talking around the pasta recently shoved into his hippopotamus mouth. Who could chew with their mouth open and talk around their food? Disgusting.

A bit of chewed, soggy pasta flew out of the date's mouth and landed on the table about an inch from George's finger. He didn't even flinch, too busy in his own thoughts.

The date was nattering on about how his week had been, how the heating in his flat was broken, how George was lucky he was free today because this classical music concert had been cancelled.

George did not feel very lucky.

He had met the date outside the small Italian restaurant about an hour ago. To be honest, first impressions were good. The date was taller than George, he liked that, a bit rounder around the tummy, but who was here to judge on figure? He was wearing this tasteful floral print shirt, and comfortable looking dark blue jeans, topped off by a pair of brown leather shoes, with no socks. That was the first indication that George would not like the date. Who doesn't wear socks with leather shoes? That takes a lot of confidence and comfort with grossness. Or perhaps an ignorance to everyone else's feelings. The second indication was how the date would take a long, wet sniff about twice a minute. Not sniffing up anything, just an awful drawing in of air and whatever else was in his nose. This, George decided, was the man's worst habit.

His face otherwise was quite pleasant, again, George did not care what others looked like, but it was always nice to have a nice looking date, despite the fact that he looked about ten years older than him. The date said "George?" and took his arm as they entered the restaurant, where the waiter greeted them at the door.

The taking the arm thing was weird. George was not amused. He felt the urge to tug it away, but the date was rather insistant, pulling on it. And it would be rude to reject him like that, so george played along, he managed a smile, though wasn't able to relax his stiffened body until the waiter turned around and gave them a warm smile. It was the sort of smile which made George want to smile back. The smile was nicely matched with some deep green eyes, set into a face which couldn't be much older than George's own. "Good evening, my name is Will, and I am going to be your waiter this evening, may I have your reservation name?"

"Table for two under the name Johnson." The date's voice was nasally. Unsurprising, but not pleasing. The accent that came through was unplaceable but undoubtedly posh. He sniffed, and the waiter held back an expression of what George could only assume was amused disgust with another smile.

"Right this way sirs."

He lead them to their table, which was somewhat central in the half-busy restaurant. He pulled out their chairs and directed them to sit down while he grabbed some menus. George mumbled a "thank you." Which made the waiter grin further. How did he manage to smile that much?

Even before the wine menu had been brought out, the date had decided he would make decisions about what George would eat.

"You'd love the malbec, Georgie. Do you mind if I call you Georgie?" He didn't have time to take a breathe before "and you'll have to try the fettuccine here, it's absolutely to die for." He dictated this to the waiter, Will, and waved him away with a flick of his hand.

George managed another thank you as he watched Will walk away, the waiter simply turned and winked. It was a nice wink, one filled with mutual understanding and empathy. The wink distracted from the current state of affairs, which was the date asking George what his monthly earnings were. They were barely five minutes in and he wanted out.