location: Just outside the back doors of Decadence for @ryderxaeron
Normally, Cal avoided the manual labour of running a club. The loading and unloading of boxes of supplies and bottle of liquor and what not. That’s what he had employees for, after all. But this delivery had come rather late in the day and before any of the night staff were due to start their shifts so Cal hadn’t had much of a choice but to sign for it and unload it himself. It wasn’t like he was just going to leave all his fine product out in the street for anyone, after all. There had only been a few crates anyway and that wasn’t anything Cal couldn’t handle (though he undoubtedly would have to fix his outfit and possibly his hair after schlepping crates inside). Things had been going rather smoothly until the brick he’d been using to keep the door propped open while he loaded things inside got dislodged and the door started to swing closed. He had keys, obviously, and the sensible thing to do would’ve been to just let it shut. But instead, with a heavy crate already in his arms, Cal had hustled to block the door from closing and stuck his foot in between it and the frame, wincing more for what the impact would do to his boots than to any real pain it caused. But the running had made him lose his grip slightly on the heavy crate so now he was in the utterly awkward position of trying not to drop it while keeping the door propped open with his foot. Making a sound from the effort, he looked up and happened to see a familiar face walking by and called out to them. “Hey, Ryder! Come and put those frightening biker muscles to use for a moment and help me, please.” Cal added the please but it was more a demand than a request, really, making a face as the crate slowly slipped a little more and he tried to readjust his grip. He was not dropping this damn thing since it was full of expensive alcohol but he did need assitance if he was going to keep that from happening.
