#casey:starter

It had been a long night at the bar, and Wes had left Casey in charge. She couldn’t remember what bullshit excuse he had given, but it was just that: bullshit. Still, she was flattered that he trusted her enough to leave the bar in her hands. Everyone had left, and she was closing up, having already cleaned most of the place. She liked doing this part alone, and was only slightly annoyed when Wes came in. But he headed straight for the back room, and she figured that he wouldn’t be a distraction. 

His friend on the other hand...She stared at him. “I hope you weren’t expecting to leave any time soon. Once he gets back there he’s gone for hours at a time.”

     Casey was counting the cash in the cash drawer, the bills laid out on the counter as she counted them. She was closing, and she wasn’t alone -- but she had asked Wes to put Sarah on the closing shift with her. When the other woman came back from taking out the trash, Casey smiled at her, gesturing her over to the bar. “I have a proposition for you,” she said. “But I need you to say yes before I tell you what it is.”

Casey’s eyes met the other’s across the bar. She smirked. She was happy they’d shown up--she’d been wondering after all, and here they were. “If you keep coming back I might think that you’re stalking me,” she said, as they approached her bar. “What am I getting you?”

Casey liked her job, she really did. There were just times when things got...slow, and when she got bored. She figured, though, that was why she had regulars. She slid one of her favorite regulars a refill of their drink, and then leaned on the bar, looking at them. “You’re always in here writing,” she said. “Are you making any progress?”

Just off to the side of the road, Casey crouches down and places two bowls on the ground. After pouring clean water into one and cat food into the other, he makes a chittering sound. Soon few cats slink out of the shadow and congregate around the bowls. He doesn't pat them or anything, simply watches over them eating and drinking. Feeding strays has been part of his morning routine for decades. Someone needs to look out for them. Might as well be him.

His little ritual is interrupted, however, with the approaching footstep. Some cats run, while the others back away to keep safe distance. But one yellow cat, the one who is more affectionate with people, stays and feasts on the wet food. Sighing, Casey stands up and says, "don't... make any sudden movement, please. They're skittish." He gestures toward the yellow cat. "Once he's done eating, I'll move the bowls. Won't take long."