when will these damn block people leave me alone

It starts with a few passing comments. They're offhanded, to anyone else they would probably mean nothing. Except Tommy isn't anyone else, he's a vigilante. One with more than his fair share of secrets that he'd like to keep private, thank you very much. So he finds it strange when all of a sudden, one of the owners of the cafè he works for suddenly strolls up and asks him about how his night was. Philza is friendly enough, though most days he usually busies himself in the office doing paperwork, but if Tommy is ever having trouble with a customer, he's the one to call to handle it. He's polite. It's a bit infectious, really. Which is why the customers love him so much. So it's a bit hard not to match his energy when he suddenly strolls up, smile bright as the fluorescent lighting overhead. Leaning against the entrance to the backroom as Tommy goes through the usual motions of cleaning his station before the end of his shift. "Do anything fun last night?" Philza asks, startling Tommy a bit by his sudden appearance. The teenager turns slowly to meet his boss' gaze, wet rag gripped in one hand as he tries to wipe caramel syrup off the counter. "Uh, not really? Why?" He shoots back. The older man leans his head against the doorframe. He's placed himself almost strategically so that Tommy had to be an active participant in the conversation. Just great. "No reason, just curious." He hums back. "Hear about the Syndicate fight last night?" Something in Tommy immediately has him on the alert. Fucking of course he knows about The Syndicate fight last night, he was the one fighting them! Zephyrus almost broke his fucking wrist for Primes sake! Philza shouldn't know that though, and he's never expressed an interest in this kind of stuff before. One could argue that maybe he's just trying to find a new interest, except why would he go to Tommy of all people about it? He puts his focus on cleaning, he is in front of his boss after all. Tommy tries to reason with himself. Yep. He just wants to look productive, definitely not because this conversation is sending the hairs on the back of his neck straight up. "Not really. Don't pay much attention to that stuff, y'know?" Philza hums in vauge agreement. "I get it. I'm not too into it either, just wanted to ask. Ranboo follows the stuff like crazy," He chuckles, the sound is something fond. "Can hardly get the kid out of my office once they start talking about it. Thought maybe you two shared the interest." Tommy’s shoulders go slack. He looks back at his boss to see him wiping out the espresso machine. He usually always saves it for last since it's such a bitch to clean out, but Philza seems to have no issue with it. Some of the anxiety pooling in his stomach calms a little. The barista makes a face at the mention of his co-worker. "Ugh, Ranboo? That guy seems like a real wrong'un to me." Tommy rambles, wringing out the wet rag into the sink. "I mean, they don't even know how to do the latte art when customers ask, he always makes me do it!" Philza snickers behind him. "That so?" Something rises in the man’s tone, almost playful as he continues. "Is that why we've been getting complaints about the crude pictures one of our baristas has been drawing with the latte art?" He asks. Oh. Oh shit. People actually noticed that? Tommy’s face goes beat red. Spinning on his heel to face Philza so he can properly defend himself. "Did I say Ranboo always makes me do it? 'Cause I meant it the other way around! I'm uh, always making them do the latte art for me, yep, that's what I meant!"