[Don't worry, Lance. He is too busy with tacos to hypothesize about the delay. Anyway, he snorts.]
Well, fuck, you said it, not me. How often do people actually come to you with shit they need help with? Were people really running you that ragged?
[He fishes some plates out of the cupboard. The noise is enough to rouse John Frusciante, now a full grown cat, who has been napping in Harlan's bedroom. She trots into the kitchen after a minute, beelining for Harlan before she realizes, oh, a guest. She stands up on her hind legs to sleepily stretch herself up Lance's pantleg. Hello please pet me.
Meanwhile, Harlan is plating up some tacos. Or, well, burritos? They're on tortillas. The terminology is irrelevant.]
You like spicy? I kept the hot shit separate just in case that's not your style. [He gestures at a bowl of presumably spicier peppers sitting off to the side.]
no subject
Well, fuck, you said it, not me. How often do people actually come to you with shit they need help with? Were people really running you that ragged?
[He fishes some plates out of the cupboard. The noise is enough to rouse John Frusciante, now a full grown cat, who has been napping in Harlan's bedroom. She trots into the kitchen after a minute, beelining for Harlan before she realizes, oh, a guest. She stands up on her hind legs to sleepily stretch herself up Lance's pantleg. Hello please pet me.
Meanwhile, Harlan is plating up some tacos. Or, well, burritos? They're on tortillas. The terminology is irrelevant.]
You like spicy? I kept the hot shit separate just in case that's not your style. [He gestures at a bowl of presumably spicier peppers sitting off to the side.]