* MID-CENTURY MARVEL

ooc. i didn’t want to have to do this, but as my activity has drawn to a standstill here i’m going to go ahead and call an official hiatus. don’t get me wrong, i love robert (he is probably my favorite oc, hands down), but if the muse ain’t there then writing isn’t happening.

      “Richard, you old dog!” Robert came up behind the beleaguered business man clapped his hands against both of his shoulders. Before he knew it Rob’s smiling mug was right in his face. 

    𝐎𝐇, 𝐎𝐎𝐅. 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. The way Wesley’s eyes snapped to empty space before them rather than locking on Robert or wandering aimlessly could have been answer enough, but they still shrugged. “I try.” They admitted, sheepish. “But it doesn’t always end up that way. Sometimes I wake up and just can’t fall back asleep! Or sometimes I’ll be so tired I can’t sleep, or…” They pressed their lips into a thin line as they trailed off. There was a sudden pit in their gut, twisting at whatever within and flooding bile to the back of their throat. How did you tell someone you were afraid of sleep because your dreams felt like reality and you were afraid you might never wake up? “I…I don’t know. There’s a lot of things, I guess! Do you sleep eight hours a night?” Their tone rose to their usual chipper levels again now that they moved the topic off of themself.

       “Sure I do!” he chimed. “But, you know, despite that I always find myself drinking more coffee than I should. Oh--” Rob snapped his fingers and pointed at Wesley with his eyes wide. “You know what, that could be your problem! Do you drink a lot of coffee? Or soda? That Dr. Pepper has more caffeine in it than you’d think, kiddo.” 

“That sounds like a brilliant idea,” Annie noted, recalling how popular the pumpkin pie and other pumpkin baked goods were in October. Surely something featuring a local favorite would attract townspeople and tourists alike. “We have lots of pies but not blueberry. I’ll mention it to management.”

She drummed a finger gently on the table in thought as she talked it over with the advertiser. Maybe they’d take his word more seriously than Annie’s. She was just a waitress, after all and had little control over how the Chat ‘n Chew operated.

      “I can mention it to them,” Robert offered. “But I’ll say it was your idea.” He gave Annie a not-so-coy wink. There was no guarantee that she’d get the credit; if the manager a full-of-himself curmudgeon, the best way to push the idea would be to make him think he thought of it. Still, being on good terms with the waitress was a priority of his. 

      Not for any particular reason, he mused. He just found her company pleasant. Not something he could say of other women in his life...