bristolbox·:
The Crashdown was always busy, and it seemed like everyone was getting put in her section today. Frazzled, and taking her break way too late, she finally plopped down in the free space on the booth, letting out a soft sigh, hair coming out of her usually sleek ponytail.
“I’d say this is all worth it for the extra tips I’m getting, but it seems like everyone thinks service is too slow.”
@roswellstarters·
Bergmann hated bars. If he was being honest, he was only here because he was supposed to meet up with a prospective buyer - one who’d been interested in one of the paintings he’d posted on Facebook marketplace. It was the first one in a while, but he’d been hoping his work would gain a little more traction with the holidays coming up. People needing gifts, ideally. He’d had more luck in the city, where people had become familiar with him through art shows and street vendors. But Rosewell was slower. Different. The art scene felt underdeveloped and dried out by comparison.
He was sitting with folded arms when Bristol slipped into the open seat. He shifted and pushed the wrapped canvas so she had more room. “Glad one of us is making some money.” He wasn’t glad but it seemed like the appropriate thing to say.







