Aug 2, 2019 23:29:35 GMT
Post by Malcolm Kelly on Aug 2, 2019 23:29:35 GMT
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Malcolm was a drifter. No real ties in town and nothing really keeping him here. He was renting a room from some old lady a few blocks away and that was about it. He had only hit town about a month ago. Stumbled in here feeling sorry for himself and needing a drink, walking out with a job. Somehow.
The old lady was nice enough to take his "i'll pay you backs" for nearly a month before he was earning a wage to actually pay her with. He liked it okay he supposed. It was better than staring at the fifty crufixes Jesus statues and bibles litering his dusty room at the elderly woman's house. Edna was her name. Malcolm fully intended to leave town again before he found this job.
A serious commitiphobe, Malcolm didn't want to plant roots. Planting roots made things too real. Even with the normality of a steady paycheck and a roof over his head he was getting anxious and itchy. Malcolm stood there behidn the bar cleaning a glass with a rag until the boss came out from her office.
"What did you miss?" He asked not bothering to look away from the entrhalling entertainment that was half passed out drunk old men lying slouched over the bar. "Well, I think that one moved a little. I heard this one hear grunt. And that guy might be dead, we should probably call someone." He said in the most casually flat voice possible.
He turned to Nikki and met her gaze. Her eyes were like shimmering pools of endless summer. Almost made you feel hopeful because even when they were sad they sparkled with so much intensity that it almost made her seem like an optimist. Malcolm wasn't great at reading people. He wasn't great at people in general. He hadn't connected with anyone on a real level in a long time.
He shielded his wounds with slight humor and his quiet nature, and he was very quiet by nature. There was only a few regulars in the bar close to closing time anyways. Malcolm had swept the bar and put away all but the single glass in his hand and the few scattered about the still occupied tables.
She's obviously upset. She still has a bit of smear of her makeup. It's not your fucking problem big guy. Just pump your breaks. No good can come of you getting tangled up in her messy emotion. Or did you forget you have a problem with emotions and other people?
Malcolm grew very quiet as he debated in his head what to say. On the one hand... He was grateful. She gave him a chance when he stumbled into this place a complete mess. She was part of the reason he was turning himself around, but on the other hand he knew he was no good for her. As a shoulder to cry on, as a friend. Hell, even as a guy to wash her dishes. He was barely able to keep his mind focused it seemed.
One of the drunk old men accidentally knocked a glass off the counter. Malcolm's hand shot out automatically and caught it without him even him turning his head to look where it was. He stopped and looked at the glass before setting it down. He could feel Nikki's eyes on him.
"Well, better close up." He said to change the subject from his freakish display. He said it so casually it was almost funny. Malcolm moved past her, feeling the heat of her skin as he moved past. She was burning up. Maybe she was sick.
The old lady was nice enough to take his "i'll pay you backs" for nearly a month before he was earning a wage to actually pay her with. He liked it okay he supposed. It was better than staring at the fifty crufixes Jesus statues and bibles litering his dusty room at the elderly woman's house. Edna was her name. Malcolm fully intended to leave town again before he found this job.
A serious commitiphobe, Malcolm didn't want to plant roots. Planting roots made things too real. Even with the normality of a steady paycheck and a roof over his head he was getting anxious and itchy. Malcolm stood there behidn the bar cleaning a glass with a rag until the boss came out from her office.
"What did you miss?" He asked not bothering to look away from the entrhalling entertainment that was half passed out drunk old men lying slouched over the bar. "Well, I think that one moved a little. I heard this one hear grunt. And that guy might be dead, we should probably call someone." He said in the most casually flat voice possible.
He turned to Nikki and met her gaze. Her eyes were like shimmering pools of endless summer. Almost made you feel hopeful because even when they were sad they sparkled with so much intensity that it almost made her seem like an optimist. Malcolm wasn't great at reading people. He wasn't great at people in general. He hadn't connected with anyone on a real level in a long time.
He shielded his wounds with slight humor and his quiet nature, and he was very quiet by nature. There was only a few regulars in the bar close to closing time anyways. Malcolm had swept the bar and put away all but the single glass in his hand and the few scattered about the still occupied tables.
She's obviously upset. She still has a bit of smear of her makeup. It's not your fucking problem big guy. Just pump your breaks. No good can come of you getting tangled up in her messy emotion. Or did you forget you have a problem with emotions and other people?
Malcolm grew very quiet as he debated in his head what to say. On the one hand... He was grateful. She gave him a chance when he stumbled into this place a complete mess. She was part of the reason he was turning himself around, but on the other hand he knew he was no good for her. As a shoulder to cry on, as a friend. Hell, even as a guy to wash her dishes. He was barely able to keep his mind focused it seemed.
One of the drunk old men accidentally knocked a glass off the counter. Malcolm's hand shot out automatically and caught it without him even him turning his head to look where it was. He stopped and looked at the glass before setting it down. He could feel Nikki's eyes on him.
"Well, better close up." He said to change the subject from his freakish display. He said it so casually it was almost funny. Malcolm moved past her, feeling the heat of her skin as he moved past. She was burning up. Maybe she was sick.
POSTGOESHERE
TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @ SP & ADOXOGRAPHY