L: Find a GirLfriend

Ramona Part 1

Dedicated to the real Des and Gracie, thanks for being there!

[Media for this chapter is actually foreshadowing of a type (also for part two).]

"Hey... What's your real name? Ryuzaki is a surname."

"My real name?"

The second part of that phrase was overlooked in my mind and I started to worry that my "perfect" Ramona was a spy or something equally unfortunate.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't look Japanese, and you don't speak like you were raised bilingual. I think I would like to call you by your given name, too. I'll give you mine."

"Ramona isn't your name?"

"Oh, no. It is, I was messing with you."

I took out a pen and a napkin from the survey/napkin holder and wrote out my name, then presented it to her.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Is it French- Oh, no, it's not."

Her eyes widened as I opened my mouth to answer her, and she cut herself off. I wonder why.

[MORE BLATHERING: There is a scene in Episode 13 (or 14, maybe 15, NOT 16), where he is eating a banana. Before he bites the thing, you can see a glimpse of an orthodontic emergency. I made an English teeth joke. Sorry for being insensitive, you may air grievances in the comments (please do).]

"So, where'd whoever named you get that?"

"I don't know."

[I never shut up: I'm not saying his mother named him that, she probably didn't. My theory/headcanon is that someone before Wammy's house thought he was a girl (idek, little flat chested and prepubescent, dirty homeless girl that's kinda androgynous looking?) and tried to call him Ellen/Ella/etcetera, and the first syllable stuck. Then, when he got to Wammy's, that's what he said his name was, but remembered his/a random surname? However it happened, I'm almost definite he wouldn't go around explaining it.]

"Well, it's interesting."

I resumed stacking sugar packets (which were ribbed, like some salt packets).

"I dare you to stack it past the napkin holder."

She was leaning against the counter with her forearms, further supported by her...

"Christ the Lard..."

She muttered curses as she adjusted her... "bra". It was good to know she was that comfortable with me, not many people are, but it was making me nervous. I really didn't know if I should or shouldn't look, or be offended, or the other thing. And, I didn't know what she meant, if she meant anything at all.

"..."

"Hm?"

I turned away.

"Something wrong?"

"No... Not at all."

"Good job."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You stacked it higher than the napkin holder like I dared you to."

I had.

"..."

"Are you trying to tell me you want even more sugar in your coffee tomorrow, or are you just stacking things because?"

"Because of what?"

"Just because."

She was starting to become steadily brasher with what she said in the time I had been "pursuing" her. Part of me thought it improper and... brash. But, at the same time, it was breaking in. Her aesthetic was becoming easier and more realistic, however less feminine. She seemed to be a give and take, or a transition.