psiolence:
“For real?” Psi creeped from the chair to stand beside her. If this fish was saying anything, he wanted to hear it, too. For whatever reason, the thought of hearing a fish tell him to fuck off, even wordlessly, would have made his entire week.
Psi stared into the water, attention sucked in by the soft rippling of the water’s surface from the bubbling filter in the corner of the tank. Quickly, he locked eyes with the chubby beaut. He was enigmatic. She was enigmatic? Did fish abide by the man-made laws of gender? “Lord.” he sighed, breath fogging up the tank’s glass in all his closeness. “You are magnificent,” he said to the fish.
A clang from the kitchen pulled him from his trance, and he shot right up. One of the most relaxing trances he’d been in in at least a week went FUBAR for a few dropped wontons.
“What’d you get?” he asked her, forgetting entirely what he’d asked for. Did he ask for anything at all?
Magnificent.
This might mark the first, and perhaps only time the fish had ever been called that- what with the dinky horns. And laughably small fins. Still, he’s a funny little bastard, and clearly lord of the tank, so Bridget takes the moment to appreciate him in all his minuscule grandeur.
“-Yeah,” she ends up breathing in agreement. “He’s the boss of the reef.”
Fuck, was she drunk.
It was another closing shift, of course, and when a customer tips her with a few choice shots, some real top shelf selections that got a kick? Gin sure as shit isn’t gonna say no.
‘What’d you get?’
She rubs her finger idly against the hem of her jeans, groggy, scraping her brain for her usual order. Shit. What did she get? There’s a pause, but she’s always one to talk. Especially to strangers, especially after midnight, drunk.
“Char siu. Uhm. Soup? Peking duck, with the sweet bean sauce.”
“I stick half of it in the fridge, cuz’ everyone knows it’s best at like, 4 am, when you’ve forgotten you had leftovers in the first place.”
