Shredder
He/Him
41
December 25th
Spikemunth
Northeast
Wastrel
Rocket Beast
I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.
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Shred Zeppelin
A Midsummer Night's Party
POSTED ON Jun 17, 2023 21:18:01 GMT
With the siren call of dinner luring people away, things seemed like they were finally slowing down. People took their drinks and left without much in the way of chat. Most leave wordlessly, which you appreciate. You don't want to solve the mystery of Cillian Quinn's relationship with Team Rocket. Then again, you don't want to be serving drinks, either, but here you are. Need, then? Yeah, that's the right word. You don't need to know the life stories of the people in front of you, but you do need money, which neatly tidies things up in terms of terminology.
Aurelie Lefevre lingers a little longer, which you'd be annoyed about, but she gives you thirty bucks, so you can't complain. Much the opposite, you've not been getting shit for tips, so it's a most welcome windfall. It's enough to blunt your tongue and spare her a needlessly incendiary comment. In fact, it's even earned her an exchange of passable small talk.
"Me too, bud. Me too."
With that, the last of your customers leave to get dinner, and you're left alone for now. The key word in that sentence being "your customers". There's other patrons at the bar, being served by other bartenders. A good co-worker might help his peers, but... Fuck, man, that pink-haired lady looks like she's been crying, and you just really don't have it in you to give a shit about her problems, y'know? What's so bad about her life that she has to cry about it? She's at a nice party in a nice dress drinking nice booze. Meanwhile, you're working customer service. You're the one who should be crying here.
Also, you lied about the "key word" bit. There's actually two key words, and the other one is "for now". There's plenty more gamblers and drunkards looking for their fix, and you're sure you'll be beset upon to pour more wanky drinks before long.
So, fuck it. Your break isn't for another few hours, but who's going to stop you from taking it now.
"Slowpoke, cover for me." You murmur, tapping the button on one of your many Pokeballs and releasing the stupid little idiot atop the bar. Sluggishly, the Galarian Slowpoke turns to look at you, a simple movement of a few steps that takes far, far longer than it should. "If anyone asks where I am, distract them. Got it?"
"S... l... o... w... p... o... k... e..."
You're taking that as a yes. So, you make a swift retreat to the staff room, leaving your terrible gremlin to handle things in your absence.
TL;DR - Shred Zeppelin is revealing his creacher and leaving to go slack off.
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