Swiftly Told Tales (Taking Prompts/ Requests!)

sort of a Say My Name AU - Part 2

Part 2 0f 2. School assignment. 

______

"Hey. Hi." The man says. Seemingly less shades lost to the wind than he had been earlier, though he still looks it. Straightening as he glances beyond her. "Fuck, are you closing?"

"Yes. I mean, well, you have a few minutes." He looks hesitantly skeptical, cocking his head ever so slightly as his attention rests back onto her. "But it's fine, hardly a first. No rush."

"I'm a little unsure how to read into that. I don't know if you can tell, but I'm not exactly all there if you know what I mean."

Its then she knows he, fortunately, does not recognize her. But that doesn't halt her from knowing him. Witnessing the failings of a stranger's struggle to dry out his life. Maybe that's why she feels like he needs to see her as an ally rather than another judger. Shifting on her feet, "My coworker was telling me, uh, its okay to have the tough days. You know? They make the good ones good, or something like that. But, uh, yes. We are closing in about ten minutes."

"Sounds like a good pal you've got." He looks like sleep has avoided his company for the last three nights, light and day to when she had last seen him. Put together, albeit nervous, he had seemed rested. Even as fatigued as he appears, as down as he has looked all night, he does seem to be perking up with conversation. Maybe that says more about him than she ought to know.

"My coworker?" He affirms, adjusting his dirty shirtsleeves. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'd say I'm pretty lucky. She usually has a knack for being right, or so her husband tells me."

"Optimism smells so sweet." He half smiles, his serviette falling onto the booths table from where he'd haphazardly tucked it into the neck of his shirt. The corner of the beige fabric soaking up the coffee it's partially landed in. She can't help the small smile, gaze flitting briefly to her shined heals as he continues, saying, "Whatever the case, how much do I owe you?"

"Was it just the coffee?" Absentmindedly rubbing the back of her neck, attention caught on his two fingers duct taped as one before tracking to the inch long scar lined along his brow.

"I think so." Easily breathing out the words. He seems to relax into the plush cushioned booth, inspecting a spot on his shirt with a perturbed look. "Though I'm not sure how reliable I am at the moment."

"Hey," Voice softening with her features. Trying to come across as encouraging. "We all have stuff."

"Yeah, I wish." He says, wistfully looking back out the window before coming back to the red splotches near the last few buttons of his creased shirt. "Hey honey, would you mind grabbing me some napkins? I seem to have somehow spilled on myself. When or where that happened, I don't know."

"Um," Gaze tracking the spots down onto his left pant leg. The change of color between the fabric of the dark denim and the blotchy wet stains correlating with his dissipating bar-stench. "Yes, I can. Hang on a second." Swiftly stepping away, turning towards the now pristinely placed space looking just as it does at the end of every shift. Long legs crossed, Charlie sits on the stool Lyla had earlier occupied. Clipboard resting on her thigh, making short strokes across the pages.

"Hey mom," Teasingly grabbing Charlie's somnolent attention. "Do you know where Carl left our guys tab?" As Lyla comes to stand by her friend, Charlie hands over the portable interact machine with a clean cloth draped overtop of it. "Oh, uh. Thanks."

"Just charge him for the drink."

"Will do, boss."

"And hey," Shifting on her seat as timid amusement colors her features. "For arguments sake, does Robert really say that? About me being r-right about stuff?"