Dec 8, 2020 16:50:22 GMT -5
Tate awoke to one of the worst headaches of the century. Rolling his head around groggily, his eyes lazily scanned his apartment. It was trashed to say the least. Empty beer cans loitered the floor, clothes were strewn about, and an open box of pizza sat on the stovetop. Light filtered in through the fibers of his blinds, highlighting the specks of dust floating around in light of the sun. Groaning, he felt around on the bed for his phone, having no sense of the current time. Unable to find it, he gave up within a matter of seconds, sitting up before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Padding to the bathroom, he turned on the water and let out another groan, this time of frustration when nothing came out.
"Shit.." he hissed, rubbing the nape of his neck. Defeated once more, he turned on his heels and headed back to where his bed was. Tate reached down and picked up yesterday's jeans that lay crumpled in a heap on the floor, fishing for a pack of cigarettes. The second his fingertips touched the box, he shoved a fist in the air in celebration, finally having his first triumph of the day. Eagerly, he quickly tugged it out of the pocket and put a cigarette between his lips while shoving open the blinds. The city bustled below, but it gave no indication of the time of day. It was always a crowded street down below where Tate lived.
If it weren't for the masks, one wouldn't even know of the ongoing crisis throughout Lethford. He stood there for a moment, transfixed and being transported back to normalcy of life before the world seemed to have taken a clusterfuck wrong turn for the worst. Tate could've sat there for ages, with that unlit cigarette hanging from his lips and in his Batman boxers if the annoying ringtone of his phone hadn't cut through the comfortable silence.
Dashing around the studio apartment, playing hot and cold with his phone, it took him almost until the last trill before finding his phone lit up resting in the pizza box. Picking it up, he brought it to his ears. Before even being able to get out a simple, "Hello?" Tate heard the shrill, downright pissed off voice of his manager, "Tate? Where the hell are you?! You were supposed to open for me today, remember?" She began to hyperventilate as her panic raised at an undoubtedly alarming rate.
"Ah.. shit.. my bad!" He said in that nonchalant tone he often carried, clearly no where near as stressed by the situation as she was.
"Just hurry up and get your ass over here if you want to keep this job-" She was about to throw her usual slew of insults at Tate that she normally did when he messed up, but he hung up on her almost instantly. He used to entertain, but had long since stopped. Grabbing his uniform, which, thankfully was one of the few clean articles of clothing he had left, he slid out the door, making sure to take the side stairs to avoid bumping into his landlord.
Tate made it downtown as fast as one could using public transportation. Having been in such a hustle, the man almost plowed into his workplace with a lit cigarette in his mouth. Tate had gotten so far as to open the door and step a foot inside, only to realize his mistake when his manager looked up at him absolutely petrified. Doubling back, he took one last puff before flicking it onto the ground and snuffing the life out of it.
Tate made his way back into the small coffee shop. It was still early, some clearly rushing to get their caffeine fix before work, and others taking their time and not having to work just as early as the late scramblers. Snatching an apron off the wrack, he made his way to the front counter. Two other employees took care of the current customers while he was yanked to the side by his manager.
She opened her mouth to cuss him out in hushed tones, but one whiff of him made her curl her nose. "You smell of cigarettes and booze," she barked, "Do you ever even shower?" Tate offered her only a lighthearted laugh in return before saying happily, "Sure I do, it's just my signature scent."
Deciding she was already quite done with Tate this particular morning, she rolled her eyes and left him to run the front. Turning his attention towards the customers, he began taking orders and preparing them. Despite not always being the most reliable, he sure was the most efficient at the job. Tate liked to feign disinterest, but he took pride in his work and doing it well.
When the lull came, Tate took to lazily cleaning the counter and didn't even look up when he heard the door 'ding' at the arrival of another customer.
GRAYSON DAVENPORT
notes: sorry this is so long! i tend to ramble whenever i start threads LOL. do not feel the need to match this by any means. down for however you wanna fit gray into this! whether he's the customer coming in or has already been there or whatever is up to you! i'll find a way to make it work however you end up wanting to work him in <3
"Shit.." he hissed, rubbing the nape of his neck. Defeated once more, he turned on his heels and headed back to where his bed was. Tate reached down and picked up yesterday's jeans that lay crumpled in a heap on the floor, fishing for a pack of cigarettes. The second his fingertips touched the box, he shoved a fist in the air in celebration, finally having his first triumph of the day. Eagerly, he quickly tugged it out of the pocket and put a cigarette between his lips while shoving open the blinds. The city bustled below, but it gave no indication of the time of day. It was always a crowded street down below where Tate lived.
If it weren't for the masks, one wouldn't even know of the ongoing crisis throughout Lethford. He stood there for a moment, transfixed and being transported back to normalcy of life before the world seemed to have taken a clusterfuck wrong turn for the worst. Tate could've sat there for ages, with that unlit cigarette hanging from his lips and in his Batman boxers if the annoying ringtone of his phone hadn't cut through the comfortable silence.
Dashing around the studio apartment, playing hot and cold with his phone, it took him almost until the last trill before finding his phone lit up resting in the pizza box. Picking it up, he brought it to his ears. Before even being able to get out a simple, "Hello?" Tate heard the shrill, downright pissed off voice of his manager, "Tate? Where the hell are you?! You were supposed to open for me today, remember?" She began to hyperventilate as her panic raised at an undoubtedly alarming rate.
"Ah.. shit.. my bad!" He said in that nonchalant tone he often carried, clearly no where near as stressed by the situation as she was.
"Just hurry up and get your ass over here if you want to keep this job-" She was about to throw her usual slew of insults at Tate that she normally did when he messed up, but he hung up on her almost instantly. He used to entertain, but had long since stopped. Grabbing his uniform, which, thankfully was one of the few clean articles of clothing he had left, he slid out the door, making sure to take the side stairs to avoid bumping into his landlord.
Tate made it downtown as fast as one could using public transportation. Having been in such a hustle, the man almost plowed into his workplace with a lit cigarette in his mouth. Tate had gotten so far as to open the door and step a foot inside, only to realize his mistake when his manager looked up at him absolutely petrified. Doubling back, he took one last puff before flicking it onto the ground and snuffing the life out of it.
Tate made his way back into the small coffee shop. It was still early, some clearly rushing to get their caffeine fix before work, and others taking their time and not having to work just as early as the late scramblers. Snatching an apron off the wrack, he made his way to the front counter. Two other employees took care of the current customers while he was yanked to the side by his manager.
She opened her mouth to cuss him out in hushed tones, but one whiff of him made her curl her nose. "You smell of cigarettes and booze," she barked, "Do you ever even shower?" Tate offered her only a lighthearted laugh in return before saying happily, "Sure I do, it's just my signature scent."
Deciding she was already quite done with Tate this particular morning, she rolled her eyes and left him to run the front. Turning his attention towards the customers, he began taking orders and preparing them. Despite not always being the most reliable, he sure was the most efficient at the job. Tate liked to feign disinterest, but he took pride in his work and doing it well.
When the lull came, Tate took to lazily cleaning the counter and didn't even look up when he heard the door 'ding' at the arrival of another customer.
GRAYSON DAVENPORT
notes: sorry this is so long! i tend to ramble whenever i start threads LOL. do not feel the need to match this by any means. down for however you wanna fit gray into this! whether he's the customer coming in or has already been there or whatever is up to you! i'll find a way to make it work however you end up wanting to work him in <3
