Had Adrian not imposed himself into Gaven's home, he probably would not even bothered with the idea of groceries. Back at his apartment, his refrigerator just seemed to magically refill itself. He figured his roommate was just tolerant, or was exceedingly grateful to the low prices Adrian offered him for some top notch poisons. Which ever it was, he never really saw food as a necessity. It was just there and he ate it, no matter what it was. But with Gaven, he supposed it was polite to go grocery shopping and offer to pay for half of it, since he was leeching off his friend just because he liked being around him.

This, then, was why Adrian was standing on the lower rung of a shopping cart, hands braced on the handle and staring at the various different brands of macaroni and cheese with a look of slight wonder. He had a black beanie tugged over his messy, highlighted hair, and a shortsleeved salmon colored shirt with that black and white scarf tossed loosely around his neck. His jeans were low—too low. People probably didn't need to know he wore maroon boxers.

"Hey, should we get Easy Mac?" He just sort of expected Gaven to be behind him, but he didn't wait for an answer and dumped a couple boxes in, anyway.

"If you like it, then, yeah, we'll get it." Gaven appeared behind Adrian from one of the aisles with a box of Captain Crunch and an armload of canned vegetable soup. He dumped the tins into the shopping card and glanced to Adrian, frowning softly and briefly touching his fingers to the small of his back as if telling him 'don't fall, please.'

It was nice to have someone to shop with. He was going to spend a hell of a lot more than he usually did, but still, nice to have someone to shop with as he weighed the merits of sweet pickles against dill pickles.

"You like apples?" He asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I kind of want apples. And maybe caramel." Idle-talk, a sleepy, murmury chitchat that didn't really mean anything at all. He was going to buy the apples whether Adrian liked them or not. Gaven was dressed in a tight, deep green sweater and an oversized pair of pants in a denim so dark that they were almost black.

For Kristopher, similarly-but-differently finding people living in her house, grocery shopping suddenly has become a thing she Has To Do. Kind of regularly. Boys eat a lot.

At least she can cook, kind of- she's got instant soups in there for when she's out and they're floundering, but also some meat and veggies and things she can make quickly from scratch. She predicts lots of stir fry and pasta and things like that in the near future. Also, handy excuse to get good raw meat. Which. Okay, yeah, anyway.

She's pushing her cart along idly, arms crossed on the handlebar, wearing a pair of sunglasses pushed up into her hair and an odd sloppy sort of plaid coat that used to belong to an ex-boyfriend. Her jeans, unlike theirs, are just jeans (albeit narrowly-fitted ones).

She's also peering myopically at the pair a couple of yards ahead of her. They look terribly familiar, and then one of them, the blonde, turns his head to the side and she's got it.

"Gav?" she says, cautiously, since she's still not convinced she's not talking to a total stranger. "Gaven Brady?"

"Apples? Oh, sure." He smoked out of them a couple of times. And then ate the apple after, which really tasted awful but helped curb the munchies and get rid of evidence. He was more interested in the unhealthy stuff, though, such as Hamburger Helper and instant ramen. Those were easy and quick and somewhat satisfying, even though he was left with a greasy feeling in the back of his throat after eating. "What about some frozen pastas? And Bagel Bites?" Adrian did not cook. His eating habits reflected this. Once he tried to eat a frozen pizza without toasting it, first. He got a good way in somehow.

Adrian looked up even though the girl said Gaven's name. He tried not to rock on the shopping cart, because it would tip and that probably wouldn't be a good thing.

"Who's this?" He blinked at the girl owlishly. Was Gaven holding out on him? Not cool.

Adrian didn't remember much before his eighteenth birthday. The faces of people he knew before blurred with the faces of people he met now. Also, he sucked with names.

Gaven's shoulders jumped when he heard his name- selective hearing and all that jazz. The expression on his face suggested that, if he had been a cat, his ears would have been fully cocked and tilted curiously toward Kristopher. "I'm not-- sure," he said, trailing off and turning around fully, his head tilted back a few degrees as if sloshing his brain to all one side would help him think.

"Kris.. Kristian? Kristopher?" He knit his brows deeply and the look that washed across his face was one of pure embarrassment. "We went to school with her," he said in a sotto voice and stepped toward the girl, smiling and pulling one pale hand from his pocket to offer it toward Kristopher.

Gaven seemed genuinely sorry. "Sorry, I'm not the best with names, and it's been a long time.. we did go to the same high school, didn't we?" He didn't rush his words.

"Oh, yeah, of course," she agrees meaninglessly, reaching across her cart to shake his hand. "I think you were a few years above me? Two? Three? Um, wow, yeah-"

She glances uncertainly at Adrian. It's totally fair that Gaven doesn't really remember her, because she can only vaguely place his friend. "Kristopher, yes. Hekas. Wow, um. How are you? What have you been up to?"

The questions are fairly standard for people who went to school together meeting up again, but Kits says them kind of like she's only distantly heard of the process and isn't really sure it exists.

Adrian felt a little out of place, here. Though Gaven and this Kristopher girl seemed to know each other, Adrian could not place her for the life of him and she didn't seem to recognize him, either. Huh. He always operated on the idea that he was sort of popular in high school. The thought he wasn't was a bit disillusioning, but oh well. High school sucked, anyway. All that fucking homework. Plus, even if he was popular, he never really fit in with the whole high school hierarchy thing. He was prone to drift from group to group, as long as there was someone who interested him.

But he also didn't really pay attention to people in the younger classes. He supposed this made him hypocritical, but so it goes.

Adrian scooted the cart up a bit so that he was right at Gaven's ankles. The dark circles around his eyes from too little sleep and an overly decadent lifestyle were artfully masked by kohl. No amount of make up, however, could hide the hollowness in his cheeks. In high school, he was healthy, fit, and athletic. Now he was sort of the used remains of that body. He leaned on the red bar and examined Kits. Great tits. Not exactly a factor to help remember her.

Adrian patiently waited for Gaven to introduce him, since that would be more polite than piping in unwanted.

Gaven grinned softly and shook Kristopher's hand firmly, careful to meet her eyes as he did so. He jammed the hand back into his pocket when he straightened himself up and glanced over to the cart, as if just remembering that he was in a grocery store when Adrian wheeled it over to him.

"Kristopher Hekas." The name rolled on his tongue like an uneven rock, before more recognition finally sparked on his face, and the perfunctory smile grew a little more genuine. "I remember you. A complete doll, even back then."

He tossed a sleepy grin to Adrian, not removing his hand from his pocket but gesturing over to him with an elbow. "This is my friend Adrian.. Adrian Bastardi? You probably heard his last name, at least."

It was weird to run into old faces and familiar names. He had dissociated himself from high school the moment he had stepped out of the doors with the diploma-- now it was just like meeting up in the halls again, four years later.

"I'm about to get my degree, actually," Gaven said, trailing off into a yawn that he masked with the back of his hand, "English history. Teaching certs, too." The little twitch of a smile at the corner of his lip suggested that there were loads of things he would rather be doing than teaching history.

Kristopher's smile isn't exactly genuine, only lopsided and a little wry- these two boys were upperclassmen and frankly the compliment, though sweet, doesn't mean much to her. It quirks, though, when Gaven introduces his friend- yes, she remembers Adrian, but he looks kind of like he's been put through a wringer or something, so she softens.

"Adrian, right, of course. Teaching? How's that going for you?" Sometimes, in the dark clammy hours of the night, she realises how likely she is to become a teacher. It would be great to find out it isn't all that bad, as unlikely as that is.

Adrian grinned fuzzily at her in greeting. He may have let the cart roll a little, so that it bumped against Gaven's behind. So he was immature. He gave a short wave to Kristopher. "Hey, Kristopher." His voice came out in a lazy, husky drawl. Probably stoned, this one. Which may have not been the best way to go grocery shopping, since even the dead fish looked tasty right now.

He had a very, very vague recollection of her. Maybe passing in the hall. He also had an uncomfortable feeling he was thinking of someone else.

He was. The girl he was remembering was actually an old lover that ended rather poorly (she was actually more interested in their Journalism professor and he found her being fucked over the teacher's desk. What really killed their relationship, though, was when Adrian asked if he could join. Hey, the professor was young and hot), but whatever.

"Been doing well?"

He had a bit of trouble imagining Gaven as a teacher. Maybe because the idea of Gav being surrounded by annoying kids was just, well, improbable in his mind. Except Gaven would be like, the best mother in the world.

Adrian's last name was memorable. That was okay. He learned to let the jokes roll off him and just smile indulgently.

He bumped Gaven again lightly, just to be annoying.

Gaven threw his hand back to catch the edge of the cart, curling his fingers around the metal and bracing himself against it. He tossed a furtive look over his shoulder at Adrian that was probably meant to say something like please don't pull this thing out from under me before he turned back to face Kristopher.

He contemplated the question before answering. "Teaching. Not really my life's aspiration, but I can deal with it. I don't mind kids, and there's not a lot you can do with a degree in English history, you know."

He licked his lips before he continued. "We're grabbing a bite to eat after we finish grocery shopping," he said, and then thought about his words for a second, realizing that it might not sound enough like an offer. "I have to go home and put the perishables up, but we could meet somewhere closeby, if you'd like."

He smiled at her. The smile was genuine.

"It'd be nice to catch up." He looked over his shoulder at his best friend again, expression clearly saying wouldn't it? Really, he wasn't trying to ignore or belittle Adrian, and he was trusting Adrian to know that. He just enjoyed the presence of people.

"Been doing well enough-" she says, still leaning on the handlebar and looking at these strange/familiar boys with her head tipped to one side, and then admits, "I'm probably going to do the same thing."

Boys rough house, but this is cute in a relationshippy way. Kristopher, magnanimous, Passes No Judgment. She does pause to think; she doesn't know when Tam gets home, and the- the other one probably wants food or whatever. "Maybe?" she hazards. "I've got a few more errands to run- but, um, I'm having a cook-out probably next week? You guys are welcome to come, if you want."

Teaching? He said nothing. Adrian saw the teaching profession as oppresive. He could not imagine himself being tied to a school by hundreds of milling students demanding to be taught. He liked Hunter S. Thompson's idea better. Gonzo journalism. That was a pleasant idea. He could be the hero of his own story.

"That's good to hear," said he. He looked over at Gaven. It was his choice if he wanted to go to the cookout or not. Adrian was fluid; if Gaven wanted to go, and if Gaven wanted to bring him along, then he would go. People were entertaining.

At Gaven's glance, Adrian nodded, almost like a marionette. His smile wasn't quite as genuine as Gaven's. It was too weak around the edges, but he tried. "It would be nice to get to know you better." His voice was light, smooth. Whipped frosting on a burnt out cake.

"A cook-out?" Gaven smiled at Kristopher, then laughed because the idea of a cookout was completely and thoroughly uninteresting to him: he was a vegetarian. "We'd love to come." He'd bring his own tofu dogs. On second thought, he wouldn't. He hated the taste of tofu almost as much as he hated the taste of meat.

He pressed forward, away from the cart, digging in one of his pockets - he was heaped in layers of clothing, not as a fashion statement, but to keep himself warm. Supermarkets were notorious for being cold, and Gaven could freeze in front of a campfire. He finally pulled a pen with a chewed end from one of the folds in his clothes, poising the tip of it over the back of his hand.

"What's your phone number? Or address. Whatever. I want to make sure we know where you live, and we'll call and get more information about it later."

He spoke in the plural first person without realizing it. He kind of just included Adrian in everything that he did.