▐ ░▒ painter for a day, troublemaker for the rest of them;
≡ …“You don’t have to—” he was cut off by the feeling of warm water streaming down his head and face and washing away the cake. It felt nice.
There are things Ivon can do and thinks that he cannot do and often enough, he finds himself in situations of embarrassing nature because he was forced into doing exactly that: the impossible.
For example, his contract albeit unwritten with his friend states that he has to do absolutely nothing other than invest into the bakery and look for new horizonts to expand the business more. Of course, it also states that he must shop up at the bakery from time to time to make his pressence known to the employees and also to attract costumers. Ivon can't deny that at certain times he feels extremely used but life isn't that hard to complain too much about it.
Today was suposed to be like any other day: go to the shop, lean against the counter and wink or smile at the customers entering, sometimes serving as a waitress when it gets too crowded and sometimes eating like a model at one of the tables to show the world just how delicious the pastry here can be. However, the moment he entered the shop, he didn't have much time to figure out what exactly is happening or to say a proper greeting as he was ushered in the back to put on his apron and start serving the customers because fuck, it's really crowded. Although he told them to not give them anything big and heavy, for he just woke up and his eyes are still trying to get used to the light and properly see. Ivon thinks, as he stares in horror at the customer who ended up being the canvas for him to paint on with cake, that they should've also told him the floor is extra slippery today and to, perhaps, watch out. Yeah, that would've been really fucking nice.
He panicks. He realises that this time he really fucked up and if he doesn't do something quick, he will not only be beaten to a pulp by his friend but they will also lose some money if the man decides to make a scene and so, pulling him up quickly by his wrist, he drags him to the bathroom in the bad, signaling the other employees to go and take care of the mess and of the other people while he tries to fix this shit.
Ivon opens the bathroom door with his shoulder forcefully, ignoring the deafening sound the knob makes when it hits the wall and has no time to worry about a possibly just made hole in the wall as he starts the mini-shower in the back of it (only to the employees who gets themselves all dirty) and taking whatever electronic devices the man has on him, putting them in the sink next to it and pushing his head under the water, reaching for the bottle of shampoo and pouring a good amount on his hair.
❝I am so, so sorry about this.❞ Scratch, scratch, scratch to the left. ❝This has never happened to me or to the other customers here. ❞ Now to the right. Add a rub to the neck and a sheepish chuckle. ❝I don't know what happened. Should've been more careful. ❞ Rinse carefully.
He extends his arm to get one of the towels, quickly putting it on his head and trying to dry his hair a little bit, ruflling with it and scratching it at the same time, trying to remember all the techniques he saw professional hair stylists use in movies and other TV programs he watched out of boredom.
Once he's sure the man is good, he drags him again, now out of the bathroom and into the resting room they have next to it, closing the door behind him and forcing him down on the couch by puting his hands on his shoulders, Ivon take a seat right in front of him on one of the plastic chairs and looking at him with a straight expressio, hoping he's able to deliver just how sorry he is for all of this.
