#burrowcd

  “-- You’re stuck on the night gig too, huh?” Mike leans back, relaxing against the bar as the ‘tender refills his drink, his incredibly long mass of ponytail struggling to resist the urge to engulf the wooden countertop.

get will or mary to answer shit / accepting

“ M…Michael? ”

    The older woman’s eyes widen as she turns to face the other, her orange hair falling in    front of her face for a moment. She, with a shaking hand, moves it out of the way of her    eyes and adjusts her purple glasses.

“ …I… haven’t seen my son in years. I haven’t seen any of my children in years. I haven’t heard… good things, however. Is he still… alive? I’m… glad if so. ”

      Mary sighs.

“ I can only imagine what William must’ve put those children through… I wish I could’ve taken them with me. I couldn’t bare to be with him anymore after I learned… what he did, and… my poor Amber. I wish I… ”

   She falters for a moment, and grips at her wrist.

(( the anatomy looks really nice here!

Head swiveled, peeking this way and that in order to see over the pile of boxes he’d been determined to carry from storage to the Prize counter. His only arm clung to the bottom most corner, fingers splayed and gripping for purpose on the smooth cardboard with, what was amounting to be, little success.

Not that he’d admit it. He was trying to prove something here. That Scott Calder could do what was expected of a Manager without assistance; even if that meant trying to do the damn near impossible. 

“D-Dropped something..?” He repeated with a frown, craning his neck to try and see just what it could be. His hat was still on his head, he was certain of that, the bill constantly getting the way. Probably the stock room’s list then, covered in his messy handwriting. Various notes and tally marks his preferred method of counting..it’d been hastily tucked in his back pocket when he’d started this.