Finn at your service.

“Y’know, I’m a bit offended you didn’t already know it in the first place,” Matthew teased. “Even though I guess I shouldn’t be, since I didn’t know yours…” Matthew squinted his eyes, and noticed something on Finn’s shirt, knowing he had to investigate. “Matt’s fine,” He dismissed, getting off the counter and landing harder than he should have. He moved towards Finn, eyes still squinted, until they were barely inches apart. Matthew looked at the thing he’d noticed, and almost hit himself when he realized… “That’s a fucking name tag. I’m sitting here not knowing your name and all I had to do was look at your fucking na–.” Matthew stopped mid-sentence, once he’d looked up from the name tag to look back at Finn’s face. What Matthew hadn’t expected was for their faces to be so close, or to feel Finn’s breath against his own skin. He stayed there for a few seconds, before stepping back and chuckling to himself.

The smile on Finn’s face slowly disappeared when Matt glanced up at him, close enough for Finn to see the reflection of the bathroom lights in his bright blue eyes. How pretty, he thought to himself.

Finn. Finn. Of course. Through the drunken haze, Matthew put together the pieces he’d gathered of the waiter, and it clicked that this was none other than the waiter. His sister couldn’t stop talking about “the one waiter with the really hot tats.” And throughout his sister’s admiration and his teasing her about it, he couldn’t stop himself from finding his mind wandering to thoughts about Finn too. He tried to suppress them just as quickly as they came, but he knew that they were there. “Matthew.” He said, absentmindedly, pulling at the collar of his shirt. Since his realization of who Finn was, his cheeks had taken a slightly pink color to them, though he figured it was unnoticeable underneath the warm lighting.

Finn watched as the gears started turning in Matthew’s head. He chuckled softly out of amusement, running a hand through his hair.

Send me a ★and I will generate a number for what my muse will say to yours.

Matthew nodded, spreading a weak smile across his lips as he looked over the man standing beside him. His arms were more muscular than he’d first noticed, and he couldn’t help but keep his eyes lingering on them for longer than he should have. He finally tore them away when he’d realized that maybe things were getting a little too quiet. “So, not to be rude, but-uh… What’s your name, exactly?” He said, leaning over to rest his elbow on his knee.

“Finn. I almost thought you would have remembered, considering the amount of times you’ve come to this restaurant.” He smiled teasingly, eyes resting on Matthew’s bright ones.

Matthew didn’t respond quickly to the waiter (who he knew had a name, and that he knew it when sober, but he couldn’t quite pull it out of his memory), and was sort of unsure as to what he should answer. “Um… I guess she does… I hadn’t really thought about it.” He finally answered, his voice trailing off at the end of his sentence. For some reason, though he rarely felt self-conscious around anyone, couldn’t help but feel some sort of shame from the judgement he was sure the waiter was casting.

A faint smile remained on his expression, eyes hooded as he examined the teenager in front of him.

Matthew watched as the man stood up from the wall and made paper towels appear. “Sorcerer…” He muttered under his breath, accepting the towels with a lazy smile. He could tell that the person standing in front of him was his waiter, who was surprisingly observant and always knew when to refill his drinks. After wiping his hands again with the towels, he balled them up and tried to shoot them into the trash, but missed by a few inches. “Damn it.” Disappointed, he turned back towards the waiter. His arms were covered in markings that he couldn’t make out under the circumstances, but Matthew was sure they were cool. He’d always wanted a tattoo himself, but his parents and his own personal fear of needles wouldn’t allow it. Matthew had no interest to leave the bathroom, because if he did, he’d have to face the multitude of questions being thrown at him about college by his parents. But he was also tired from standing, and sat down on the counter. “Eh, these are last season… I think. I don’t know… My mom does all the shopping.” He said, amidst a fit of hiccups.

Finn shook his head when he missed an incredibly easy shot for the trash can, deciding to leave it on the floor in favor for a chance to talk a little more to the intriguing young man. Finn slid his hands into his front pockets, head tilting back slightly with his eyes still lingering on the other’s face.

After what could be deemed “The Longest Pee Stream” in St. Edward’s Country Club history, Matthew fiddled with the stall door, becoming more frustrated as he couldn’t figure out what to do, until he realized he’d never locked the door to begin with. He burped quietly and shrugged to himself before going out to the sinks. The lights were bright, making him squint his eyes as he looked into the mirror. His shirt was half undone and his tie was more than crooked, and his hair – oh goodness. He was a drunk mess. A pitiful sight and he knew it. But no one took the time to notice, or say anything about it to him. He washed his hands and went to dry them before realizing that there was someone leaned up against the wall – right next to the paper towel dispenser.·“Uh… hey,” he stammered, motioning to the paper towels, before he reached past the man and waved his hands in front of the machine. Much to his dissapointment, no paper towels came out.·“Uh… Hold on. Sorry,” he said, waving his hand again and again until he realized it was of no use and wiped his hands on his pants.

At the sound of a voice that only teased him in daydreams, Finn slowly opened his eyes out of curiosity, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the disheveled boy that - he begrudgingly admitted to himself - certainly appeared in his thoughts more than once on a daily basis ever since he first laid eyes on him.

“I’m just going to the bathroom, Mom. Chillaaaaax.” Surprising no one, Matthew stumbled from the table his family was seated at to the bathroom at the back of the restaurant, bumping against a few chairs or people along the way. Finally, after what seemed like an excruciatingly long amount of time, he made it to the heavy mahogany doors. After struggling to push them open, Matthew was finally able to push his way through and into the bathroom. There was no one in the bathroom, so he decided to take a stall for himself, in case any of his steak dinner felt like making a reappearance. 

Finn sighed to himself as he made his way to the kitchen, pinning up their orders for the chefs to take care of before he leaned over the counter, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to reset a state of stability for the next excruciating customer after his break. Deciding that it was a fruitless attempt, he sighed again and straightened up, walking slowly towards the bathroom as he ran a hand down his face, the stress built up from today’s duties making Finn feel absolutely exhausted.

Well I'm just saying. 

I get it, I look very young. It comes in handy in more ways than one, sweetheart. 

Young and beautiful.

Everybody dies at some point. Why should one mean something.

Of course one can mean something.

It's not. It's more of a habit to be concerned over elixir users.

Oh, you know. It’s like someone literally took a shovel and dug a hole in me, and it’s the worst feeling I’ve ever had in my life, and I didn’t know anyone could actually ever feel this bad.

...I don't normally say this, but perhaps you should go easy on the elixirs, love.

I don’t feel any different so I’ll have to say no.

Are you sure?

Yea, everyone got ruder.

Does that include you?