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@kiernan-laugherty
“What are you going to do with all this free time? Play a game, watch a movie, me, catch up on your sleep? What is your favorite condiment then?”
“...Honestly? I have absolutely no clue. This is completely new for me.---Ketchup, of course. It can go pretty much on anything. Or barbecue sauce.”
“Our breaks have coincided, we must use this time to celebrate. What’s wrong with mayonnaise?”
“Nope, I’m off for the rest of the night, thank God. I was honestly about to smash a glass over someone’s head.---Oh, uhm, you mean other than everything?”
“Don’t you have a job to perform? And I need some mayonnaise too.”
“Excuse you, Day, but I’m finally off the clock, thank you very much.----God, I fuckin’ hate mayonnaise.”
Rachel lifted the glass and took a small sip before allowing herself to take a bigger gulp. She had to remind herself that the standard of etiquette in this setting was much higher than those she was accustomed to drinking in. “Not bad.” She was in no position to critique him, her knowledge of alcoholic beverages were limited to drinking straight from the bottle and the names of drinks her parents would order. “What’s your name?”
He had guessed she wasn’t about to have a complete change of personality and gush about his drink, despite him knowing that he made it damn well, so he took her neutral response as a compliment. “Well, it depends, do you only want to know so you can get me fired?” His words came out as a jest, but he was slightly serious.---He really had to work on keeping his mouth shut.
“You don’t have to eat alone, that just looks pathetic. I was going to make myself some egg salad. They don’t notice missing hardboiled eggs. Do you want some?”
“So you’re judging me for eating some stray fries that are gonna be thrown out, but you’re stealing eggs?”
“You know what tastes better? Dignity.”
“Ah, yes, well this is free.---And dignity sure ain’t.”
“I doubt it, but if you prove me wrong I’ll give a generous tip.”
Raising a brow at the lodger, he silently accepted the challenge. Grabbing a highball glass, he quickly got to work. After filling the glass with ice, he nearly filled it with the bar’s preferred vodka before topping it off with tonic water. He was tempted to give the order some showmanship; a flip of the bottle or something of the like, but resisted. Grabbing one of the lime garnishes from the bin that he’d have to refill very soon, he squeezed some into the drink before setting it on the rim of the glass. “------Well, let’s see how I did, shall we?” He said, pushing the drink towards the patron.
“No, I’m judging you very hard but I also want to go back to my room.”
“Well, you’re missing out, ‘cause these fries are pretty frickin’ fantastic.”
“I’ve clocked out, I don’t exist anymore.”
“So is that your way of saying you’re not judging me?”
“Vodka tonic. You’re terrible at this job.”
“You’ll think differently once you taste the drink.”
“What was I doing?----That is a really great question, and I can assure you the answer is not eating left over fries from a dish a patron left behind.”
“Can you just do your job and stop being a sarcastic bastard?”
“I could, but I’m finding this a lot more enjoyable.”
“You do realize you still haven’t told me what you want, right? Once more, making it pretty impossible to do my job.”
