He held a couple of brown, paper bags in one hand and he would occasionally put one down to label another. All the while he issued forth a string of hums and nods. When he walks, he is steady on his feet. It was slowing down now and he could finally catch up on putting away today’s shipment. It wasn’t a busy day particularly, the steady flow of regulars and a few of new faces. It sometimes felt like he was working a comedy show, nearly forgetting what it was like to not be asked about the scars on his face.
Hakuryuu has a strange appearance, almost as if it was contrived. His expression had sad, way worn eyes and a distinctive burn. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to noses wrinkled in disgust and the wandering eye peeling away as soon as his made eye contact. Yet, he remembered that it didn’t matter. The coffee shop filled with the richness of aromas and distinctive flavors when compared to the ‘bad’ it was hard to consider one bad customer while working in a place like this. His safe haven.
No time does he have to mull over the restless weariness people have. A customer waits, politely, and orders something from the menu. She’s dainty, still preoccupied with the selection. His lips quirk and glint, head quirking to the side to spill silken tresses about his shoulder. If only to satiate her own curiosity at the menu, and pointing out a few to her. For that she gives thanks and orders, and he agreed. It’s all done within a matter of minutes and her knobbly fingers pays and bids her goodbye.
A chorus of chimes that cascades it’s harmonious melody. He shuffled uncomfortably as he’s surprised by a voice. Judar, who his mother had mentioned to him over a short conversation. He’s to be taken under his wing and shown the ropes of the coffee shop. “You’re a little late, aren’t you? Is this going to be a habit of yours?” Hakuryuu moved on, picking up where he last off, labeling the rest of the fresh supply. “Anyway, my name is Hakuryuu.”
His reply is equal parts brusque as it carefully delivers his aforementioned tone of cordiality. Up close he seems near quiet, mouth a hard line, eyes as sharply observant as they are deliberately guarded. The left side, mottled with rubbery scar tissue, Judar sees, though he’s certain his new companion is more than touchy on the subject. Probably best not to ask him about. A further glance at Hakuryuu finds his shoulders wrought with unmistakeable tension despite his valiant attempts to stay casual. Judar’s mouth splits red and wicked as he gleans his brain of this new information.
“Hakuryuu,” he purrs, dropping an elbow to the polished counter and leaning his weight against it. “That’s a nice name.” He lets the disparaging comment about time management roll off his back; his cheeks ache with his continued grinning. Judar thinks that it might be nice to see Hakuryuu smile, too. It’s certainly a plan that he'll be developing later. “I’m Judar, by the way. Looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together from now on.”
The painted lids of his eyes lower as he makes a show of redirecting his focus. Everything Judar does is for the benefit of others’ attention - unbeknownst to his cute and horribly rigid new coworker, Hakuryuu is the unfortunate object of his warped affection. Judar twists around until his back is to Hakuryuu, crimson tinted gaze flitting about the patrons who drone monotonously in the background, who chatter and sip idly at their drinks. He asks lazily, “So what’s there to do around here?” Teeth flash white and even. “Just so you know, I’m not so great at the whole working thing.”
