currently thinking about dante sparda who’s a feminist, 6’3, built—and oh, did i mention feminist?
“say, dante, what’s your opinion on men’s rights ?”
“irrelevant.”
dante doesn’t miss the slight pause you make before continuing to stir your drink. he sits in the booth across from you, enzo munching on fries opposite him as he sneaks a sip of his sundae.
“yer joking !” enzo says between belches. “something wrong with ya kiddo ? what do you mean men’s rights are irrelevant ?!”
but dante isn’t listening. he’s more concerned about the gap between your lips & coffee cup, the way you tilt it slightly above your mouth so as to not stain the glass with your gloss. your lips tug into a pout when you find the rim stained in coke pink regardless. you pull out a napkin & wipe it with a frown. cute.
“well, as a six three, employed and financially stable male,” dante clears his throat, smug, “i can’t help but turn my focus to more important things. for example, the widening gap between men and women’s wages. and we can’t forget the rising prices of feminine hygiene products, of course.”
enzo wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. he doesn’t miss the way dante’s pupils seem to flit over to you every now and then. he clicks his tongue,
“kid, please, y’know she hasn’t even looked at ya, right?”
“she will.”
you continue to scroll through your phone.
but dante takes your silence as intrigue.
“anyways,” dante pauses as if searching for the words, “i just think it’s important to raise awareness—”
“yer raisin’ my freakin’ blood pressure.”
dante shoots him a glare. “i just think that, as a six foot four male, it’s my duty to raise awareness about the issues women face and the obvious gender bias in america’s modern day economy.”
“y’said six three before, kid—wait, what’s yer’ height gotta do with anything ?!”
as if on cue, your teaspoon clatters to the ground, and dante, ever the feminist, is quick to lean down to pick it up—rattling the table and spilling enzo’s fries in the process.
“hey! watch it—“
“your spoon, lady,”
you blink. dante’s taken his time to wipe the spoon clean & present it with a napkin. you hesitate a little before obliging with a murmur, “thanks..?”
“you’re welcome,” he says smoothly, relaxing into the booth seat. “no woman should ever have to bend over in a skirt. i mean—unless she wants to. then it’s her choice. her feminine power.”
“oh !”
enzo chokes on a fry. you stare at dante for a beat too long & he can’t tell if you’re confused or interested, but dante has an ego bigger than his head so he decides upon the latter.
“say, lady, don’t you agree that men should always pay on the first date ?”
you raise a brow. “the first ?”
dante waves his hands. “all, really. i only mention the first because i know some strong, independent women prefer to pay too. i respect that. i respect all women, really.”
“right. and is this your way of offering to pay for my food ?”
dante’s pupils shift to your table. only now does he realize you’ve ordered the most expensive french breakfast on the menu, as well as a drink too milky brown to cost the same as your average cappuccino. his wallet aches heavy in his pocket. “with pleasure ! lemme just get my wallet out…hope i didn’t leave it in the hellcat…”
“huh? wasn’t our uber a toyota?”
dante bares his teeth, ready to strangle enzo when you giggle—
“oh, gosh,” you sniffle, wiping tears, “that’s enough, you two are hilarious.”
clearing your throat, you raise your hand to reveal the diamond settled on your finger. “i’m sure you’re lovely and all, but i’m happily engaged.”
“that’s okay! i support women having multiple streams of happiness—ow !”
dante rubs at his shin as you continue. “that’s nice for you, but i’m fine with my fiancé.” you set some cash on the table and dust your skirt off, standing up to leave. “thank you for the laugh, though, gentlemen.”
you wave them goodbye and make your exit.
“God, i love women.”
“seek help,” enzo mutters, as he sneaks a sip from dante’s drink again.
