#subhqstart

settling into the chair in the familiar setting of maggie’s, ezra wearily removed his glasses. eyes strained following the long night shift; a common occurrence that never really got easier, especially when combined with the harsh lights of the general hospital “so.” he added two sugars into the cappuccino that the coffee shop was famous for, currently far too hot to drink to the man’s dismay. “this guy. like... nineteen? came in with this kid he’s babysitting. she’s absolutely fine, a minor scrape, and he, well... i swear, i’ve never seen anybody so scared before. literally shaking, poor guy. looks at me and just faints. ended up with the kid taking care of him.” ezra shook his head absentmindedly “somehow i don’t think babysitting is his calling in life.”

She had been trying to be as incognito as possible in recent months, choosing to shop out of town or in weird hours so she could be left alone. Eleven years living in the peacefulness of this town without anyone from her past knowing where she was and a show was about to ruin it. Not like she was hiding or anything, but it was all so much easier. Today though, she needed a quick trip to the store to get some things. Rushing through aisles with her head down she held her basket tight and power walked towards the front. Unfortunately, timing wasn’t the best and she nearly ran into another person. “Oh” she breathed out, stopping in her tracks, “I’m sorry I almost tackled you. I’m in a bit of a hurry”

Waking up early was a rarity for Jason. He was usually stuck with closing shifts at Las Deux, so when he actually had two days off in a row he was able to get some real sleep. However, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with himself on an early morning. Jason grabbed his keys and decided to take a walk to Maggie’s. He got himself some coffee and sat down at a table, glancing over at another person, “I feel like a different person being up this early. I don’t know how people do this every day.”

       he misses new york. he misses his penthouse, his friends, his big city lifestyle. whenever regret starts creeping up on him like this, the only w a y rocco knew how to get rid of it was how his mother taught you ------ a drink, and another. and another. and another. he’s only been here two months, hardly knows anyone by name ( and honestly; would he even recall them anyways ? ) and the loneliness is starting to really take it’s toll on his already fragile psyche. as he finishes another shot of whiskey, his eyes trail over to his left at the physique seated beside him, and he figures: fuck it. pulling out his wallet, rocco carelessly tosses a hundred dollar bill forward, to the bartender. “whatever they want, too.”