Then there is Raven. Raven's general life elo is so high, she's able to virtually real-time outplay the coronavirus. In fact, her elo is high enough to outplay the very concept of physical distance itself and fend off corona on your body as well. We could have a nice Friday fireside chat with a dragon head motif. Oh you know, enjoy some wine that is inevitably overpriced because all wine tastes like bad grapes but we all pretend it's better than glorified apple juice. You explain to her that most of the terroir in Euroland has been treated by pesticides already. She will retort she studied a year in France and during that year she met up with her long lost great aunt who squeezes the winegrapes personally with her feet. For a while, we will argue about whether or not babushka's feet carry the spirit of the earth and infuse the grapes with dead body scrapes that carry the DNA of the land. We finish the wine and hold hands as we walk out. Since it's cold we'll wear scarfs but every now and she'll pull mine down to whisper something in my ear. We giggle as we walk down the street, secretly flaming other people on the street amongst ourselves. We walk to the edge of the suburbs to find the station. I'll push over a snowman. She'll smile satisfied at your vandalistic tendencies. She'll trip over a grandpa. 'What the fuck?', you'll ask while instinctively taking off. 'You did it first,' she'll retort. 'Did not,' I'll say. 'It's not the same,' you'll think to add on, but not actually say. The escape is long. Fortunately, the tram ride to her place is short, silent, and spicy. We'll make eye contact a lot and explore each other's Fairy Tail scarves. They're both those double-sided scarves, one design on one side, another on the flip side, you know? Talk about sexual tension. We'll both be wearing the Natsu side, as we can't agree on who's going to be the Natsu in this relationship. We get out of the tram and decide to sit on a nearby bench. She'll be shy. I pull down her scarf. I see a Lucy design. The cold penetrates my soul through scarf at this foul revelation. How dare this heathen not stan the original best waifu. But I'm cool. Cool as a cucumber. I'll look her in the eye and put her hand on my scarf. It'll be the first time she does something this tacky, so she blushes till she's red as a tomato. She'll lean closer until she sees I'm stanning best girl Erza. The look in her eyes changes. All color in her face is gone. She's not a cucumber. She's not even cool. In fact, she's fucking feral. She goes ham, and we both start shouting. She'll want me to be her Lucy but I'll demand her to be my Erza. After about 5 minutes I stop shouting, she keeps going for another 20 and tacks on a diss track on top. She stops because she finally feels pity. I need to exercise more to keep up with this shit. She'll take it as a win for the Lucy faction and tweet about it. It will gain a surprising amount of retweets, the comments will be mean, and my ego will be bruised and swollen for the weekend because of it. She takes off. I'll go the long way home. Maybe cook something filling but healthy since those restaurant dinners never cut it. Have a shower. Put on some music recommended by your old high school friend who was in a band and recently tried to reconnect with you but was left better off as a good memory. I'll browse through messages, snaps, emails, pings, etc.. Make some tea with milk and sugar. I'll slice a suspiciously symmetrical watermelon I got from the next door granny while checking out the memes Mango sent me. We'll talk a bit. She'll ask me about the date with Raven and for lel and kek sake, will message noona and uncle about it. Uncle's connection will be bad, but noona will message me. She mentions Hardy isn't home and sends pictures of her godforsaken attempts at cooking. I'll say I had a long day. She'll understand and link me one of those informational videos on the Lannisters and a blushing smiley. My housemate will knock. He'll probably have had a long day too. He'll sit down, roll something strong, I'll pour something soothing. We'll exchange stories about our day. He'll get a call from home. He'll tell me he'll drink the tea and I can smoke the joint. I indulge after the long night. I put on an informational and lean back in my chair. Quite the long piece. I'll ponder for a while. The tea is still hot. I'll google what technically qualifies as incest.