werewolfery

Hamish thought about it for a moment. He did honestly want to know, but he also didn’t want to be that person. People who asked to many questions got spit in their food. And Hamish was hungry. “No, it’s okay. I was just curious. Are you allowed to sit? It’s not too busy and you look quite tired.”

-

— 🌙

“You sure? I mean, you’re not saying this now only to go tattle to my boss behind my back, right? I can’t really afford another write up.” Which should also be his answer to the seat he was offered. But then again his legs are killing him and at the moment, things seemed slow enough to chance it. So he sat, wiped his sweaty hands on the apron around his waist and then grabbed the manu to put it down between them. “Here, in case my boss comes over we can just pretend I’m explaining an item to you. Just ask something easy if she shows up.” 

where: steps of her apartment building with: anyone

“I love the smell of rain in the evenings. It’s nice to sit out in, but not get completely drenched by” she whispered to herself, resting her head against the doorway and wiggling her toes, peeping through her sandals, as they were the only part of her she allowed the rain to hit. “Do you need an umbrella, or did you want to sit as well?”

— 🌙

Arlo had hovered by the street lamp, his back obviously turned. He wasn’t the kind of guy to chat up a woman sitting by herself at night and refused to be mistaken for one so that was where he remained until she started talking to him first. “I’ll just sit if that’s okay with you. I must have forgotten my keys and the pal who has my spares won’t be here for another hour at least.” Upon her invitation, he took a seat next to her. “Aren’t there nicer places to enjoy the rain?”

where: mhmm with: open

“if I look like I could use a drink, then maybe you should offer to buy me one.”

— 🌙

“If you think I look like I can afford to buy someone drinks, you should maybe get your eyes checked.” 

emma face remained on the table surface as they spoke. “it’s probably not your fault man. I’m real sorry I can’t just eat it.” which was true. they were ravenously hungry from the cycle. “I don’t know how that sounds, because honestly, I’m not sure what your job here is. so can you actually cook? like you’re not going to just serve me burnt toast or anything right? because I can do that for free at home too and I don’t have to wear pants there, but I’m sort of tired so- can you make eggs?”

— 🌙

Arlo scratched his head. “Oh, no. It is. I’m a shit waiter.” He should probably be a little more apologetic, but not caring about his job was one of his few core principles. “I’m just filling in because all the usual folks called in sick today. I’m actually a chef, so me preparing you some killer eggs is actually a lot more likely than serving it to the right person. So feel free to up the difficulty a little bit.”  

“Sorry, that was probably a bit rude,” Ronnie said, wrinkling her nose. “My mum says I have a horrible filter,” she added. She looked around, taking in the crazy environment and the fact that she hadn’t gotten the right meal, before looking back at him. “Do you need help?”

— 🌙

Arlo frowned. “You figure? Your ma sounds like a smart lady.” Her apology didn’t count for nothing though. The offer to actually help him out of the mess he was currently in caught him genuinely off guard. “Are you serious? You want to work?”

…

“Alright, but like…” Scratch reached up, scratched the back of his head as he cottoned out exactly what he’d just been threatened with. “I didn’t shower this mornin’ and I did take the bus here, so I’d be a terrible flavor.” As if that was the most important thing to worry about with a threat like that, serious or joking, looming over his head. His eyes scanned the room, nodded and reached up to give Arlo a nice little pat across the cheek, his own grin growing a little. “Don’t you worry a lick, Lolo. Lemme get those tables orders taken, get old Rusty outta here, and then I’ll come help ya with the dishes. As an act of grace and charity for my woeful misdeads or whatever. Go take a smoke break before you implode, yeah?”

— 🌙

“Oh, I could tell. You smell like a gym bag,” Arlo snapped. To him he did, at least. Scratch wasn’t really at fault, it was his hypersensitive werewolf smelling thing, but in the heat of the moment, he had to blame who he could for his absolutely sour mood. If it had been anyone but Scratch, he would have chewed his hand off. Instead, he gave an annoyed huff, only truly appeased by the promise of a cigarette. “I give you ten minutes to take care of this mess and then you come join me for a smoke. Got it?”

where; the mortal realm for sure whomst; arlo @werewclfry​

Laser didn’t generally play with others. Outside the girl gang (a phrase you couldn’t pay Laser enough to say out loud) they didn’t really have friends. Most of the other members of PAM were more like, work acquaintances. But Arlo was funny and always looked so tired. Lase wanted to poke him, test out his limits. Maybe they could get him to do batshit things.

“Heya, buddy.” Laser said as they happily jumped down from a fire escape to land in front of Arlo, who by all accounts had just been walking along the street. “Don’t work today, do you?”

–

— 🌙

Arlo didn’t flinch when Leia dropped from the sky. He had done that earlier when he first noticed she was there. The sound of her steps on the metal stairs would have been unnoticeable for someone without his talents, but he had caught up on it. And it made the hairs in the back of his neck stand up. “How’d you guess? Is it the fact that I am not actually physically at work right now or just the fact that I am not actively considering walking into oncoming traffic like I would if I were on my way to work?”

ᛉ  

Diners were a hell of a place to kill a few hours. For Sybill, newly back in town and with few friends- good friends, but few as they had always been- there weree plenty of hours in the day to kill. All the mingling energies, the cacophany of noise and life, she found it oddly soothing in a way most places could not pull off. Of course, that was never the same for the staff, and she often wondered- especially days like this, when the smattering of them that she saw looked harried and miserable- if customers like her who curled in a corner with a book and stayed for hours, were a blessing or a bother. 

Either way, she was here, and she was hungry, so she may have looked a little exasperated waiting for her food, but she only grinned brightly when it was set down. “Thanks. You look a little rushed off your feet there. You wanna sit for a sec? I won’t tell.” Sybill raised her book a little, “and I don’t have to talk to you either, if you don’t want.”

--- 🌙

Arlo took a careful look around. If he ducked his head enough, he might manage to hide in the booth for at least a little while. “Sure,” he decided finally, sinking into the seat across from her. He took a glance at her book, trying to catch the title for something to talk about, but he didn’t recognize it. Instead, he said “You come here a lot, don’t you? I usually work in the kitchen, but I recognize the order. Not many people go for the extra mushrooms.”  

♞ —–

“ Not mine, sorry. I haven’t actually ordered yet, ” Markus admitted, pained by the awkwardness of the situation. Maybe it would have been better had he just shut up and taken the damn ravioli. “ It’s fine though. I think i’m probably just going to leave. ” He glanced at his watch for about the fivehundredth time in the past fifty minutes. Swallowing hard, realization finally settled enough to pull him out of his hopeful delusion. “I don’t think they are going to show up anymore. So just let me pay for my drinks and I’ll be out of your hair. ”

--- 🌙

“What, guy like you getting stood up? That’s pretty grim news for guys like me then.” Arlo rubbed his face and laughed. If even the guys that looked like they could be on the cover of a magazine were starting to have a hard time now, he was all but fucked. Perhaps literally. He set down the plate to free his hands, took the notepad from his apron pocket and started adding up the guy’s accumulated drinks. “Tell you what. I could go ahead and take my break right now. I was going to grab some lunch at the kebab place down the street if you’re still hungry and don’t want to have dinner on your own?”

Noah fought the urge to wince. It was the wrong order (he didn’t eat mushrooms), but he also worked in the service industry and knew an overworked, underpaid waiter when he saw one. 

“Thanks, man.” Noah said, “Hey, uh, why don’t you sit down for a minute? Take a load off?” He gestured to the seat across from him. 

“Nobody’ll snitch on you. Especially not me.” 

He lifted his fork and poked at his food, eventually took a hesitant bite, and watched the waiter expectantly. He lifted his eyebrows as if to say ‘well? Go on.’

---🌙

“I’m not really allowed to sit down while on the clock.” A glance at the wall clock behind him reminded him that it would stay that way for another three long hours. But his feet were aching and all day all he could think about was that he had to stop giving the waiters so much shit. Maybe his job in the kitchen wasn’t as much more exhausting than theirs. 

“Thanks,” he said as he took the guy up on his offer and took a seat, even if a little reluctant and just about ready to jump up again at the first sign up trouble. “If my boss comes over, just pretend to yell at me over dumb shit, alright? He’s really into that.” 

Hamish liked this diner. He liked all diners, really, on the principle of them being awesome, but he liked this one even more than Stella’s pub. The people in Stella’s pub had gotten kind of scary. This guy just looked kinda tired. Kinda really tired, actually. “But where do the extra mushrooms go?” He asked, curious. “Are they in the sauce, or do they put all of them in the pasta?”

–

--- 🌙

Arlo was not made to be a waiter. That was what he realised when he had to take a deep breath before managing to answer the customers question in a calm and collected manner rather than snapping do you want the bloody food or not?. “I’m not sure, actually. Would you like me to ask the chef how the dish was prepared?”, was the way more customer service friendly alternative.

–

Ronnie looks down at the plate in front of her, about to open her mouth and say that wasn’t hers before she took in the other. Her lips pursed instead, and she nodded down at the plate. “Yes, extra, perfect,” she agreed. “You… look like shite, to be honest.”

--- 🌙

Arlo was visibly baffled by the woman’s rather harsh verdict. “Cheers, I guess.” Felt good, finally getting to set the hot plate down in front of someone. “It’s, uh... It’s been a bit of a rough day so I probably look better than I feel,” he admitted, wiping his aching hands on his apron. 

Scratch was late. Like… super late. He had an excuse, sure, but it still felt kind of shitty, especially when he skidded into the door and noticed Arlo out on the floor, looking ready to torch the place. For his part, Scratch at least had the decency to look sheepish about the whole thing as he threw on his apron. “I know and I’m sorry, my car wouldn’t start and I missed the bus so I had to wait for the next one. Kill me later and just tell me where we’re at.” 

--- 🌙

The second Scratch came in through the door, Arlo was immediately on him, grasping him by his apron and poking his chest as he angrily hissed at him. “You’re a dead man walking, Chapman. The second we close up, I’ll take you out the back and I will beat you over the back of the head with a meat mallet and throw your body in the grinder and sell you as tomorrows burger special.” In the heat of the moment, it was hard to discern if Arlo was mostly joking or mostly serious. Either way, he seemed at least relieved that his colleague finally made it to work. “The frier has been acting up all day, so we had to 86 all the fried dishes, the two booths by the window are still waiting for someone to take their order and the old lad in the corner over there ordered one cup of coffee at 9 am and nothing else since then so I don’t know if we get to kick him out or not.” 

-

em lifted their face from the nice cool lining of the diner bar and up at the plate of food that smelled like a cross between a moldy basement in june, a sour fish, and satan’s salty anus… and cheese. they almost wretched in the floor. emma covered their nose with the remaining collar of their shirt. “I’m allergic to mushrooms. I can’t eat that.” it had been a rough moon this week. they were exhausted and starving. they laid their head back down and closed their eyes. “I ordered eggs I think, but if you hand me literally anything without mushrooms, I will eat it. I promise.”

--- 🌙

Bit of an extreme reaction to the ravioli, Arlo thought. Sure, they weren’t gourmet, but the food here was genuinely good. Except with their allergy, it made sense. “Oh, shit, sorry.” Pulling the plate away, he gave them an apologetic look. Good thing they pointed it out. His boss surely wouldn’t be happy with him if he killed a customer during lunch time. “Tell you what. Kitchen’s a bit backed up right now so it would take the chef a while to make you something else, but if you give me like 15, I’ll jump in and whip something up for you. How does that sound? On the house?”

Being understaffed was always shit. Usually it meant that Arlo had to do two, sometimes three people’s work all the while getting yelled at for being too slow. Today it meant that he had to be out of the kitchen and on the main floor, taking orders and bringing out food. And despite it being a slow day, Arlo was beyond struggling. The plate he was currently holding was painfully hot still and after trying to serve it to two different people who both denied ordering it, he gave it one last try with another customer who at least looked like they were impatiently waiting for their food. “Here you go. Mushroom ravioli, extra mushrooms. Enjoy.”