All Bite and No Bark

[lcnatic]

[john david washington — 36 — he/him] Introducing RUS RALSTON. Word on the street is they are a HITMAN and member of THE SYNDICATE for the past FIVE YEARS. Though they are INSENSITIVE and SECRETIVE, they can also be DEDICATED and RESILIENT. In the chaos of New York City, they’re sure to fit right in. 

— BASICS

Name: Rus Ralston Age / D.O.B.: 36 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis male, he/him, bisexual Hometown: TBA Affiliation: The Syndicate Job position: Hitman Education: TBA Relationship status: Single Children: N/A Positive traits: Dedicated, resilient Negative traits: Insensitive, secretive

— BIOGRAPHY

( tw: death, mentions of suicide )

It’s hard to get out of a life of crime when you’re born into it. Rus came to learn what the expectations were within the mafia relatively quick. His father was good with technology and his mother was good at breaking things. Bodies, finances, lives- so on and so forth, but Rus never had to worry about any of that. Not until later at least.

No one was surprised when Rus proved himself to be useful within the mafia. It was a family business after all, and he went through the years learning from his mistakes to proving people wrong. He might have seemed the type to be a one-man team, but he had a few select people that he could call ‘friends’. All of which were at the top of their field. All of which had crossed fire with each other since the world is coincidentally small.

His younger brother, Alan, had managed to stay separate from the Ralston traditions. He was an outcast, essentially, but Rus always kept tabs on him. He was still family, after all - the only one he really cared for. He was one of the best hitmen within the family by the time his nephew, Paul, had been born. And though Rus never had any children of his own, he adored his brother’s small family.

Except his brother’s wife, Audrey, wasn’t exactly the doting wife everyone had assumed. See, she had come from a broken home where her father and sister had been taken away from her at the age of four. A gas leak and tragic house fire, the news had said. Audrey and her mother had survived because they ran out before they had inhaled too much smoke. Or that’s what Audrey had always been told.

Audrey’s mother had done everything she could to keep her daughter safe, but her efforts fell short. Suicide was what the news read when Audrey was twelve. Her mother had been so filled with grief from the loss of her husband and other child that she couldn’t take it anymore. That’s what the suicide note read at least. And maybe some of that was true, but not all of it. Audrey’s mother hadn’t been so consumed to take her own life. No, someone came and set it up that way. And Audrey had seen it. She had seen Mrs. Ralston kill her mother and leave the note from where she hid.

So Rus didn’t have to worry about the lives that his mother and father had ruined until the day everything went to shit.

She took and burned everything he loved. His brother and nephew, his 9 to 5, his sense of normalcy. The transition from security to hit for hire happened far too easily. First was a visit paid to those that snuffed the life of his family. Then it was to Audrey herself, sat in his brother’s home, steadfast with expectancy. He was told, right when he breached the front entry, what happened. How the Ralston's had ruined Audrey’s life, and that she was the one that had been consumed by grief and hatred. How she had been planning for this very moment for so long.

And he believed it.

He could tell just from the look in her eyes that she meant everything said. She had hired someone to kill her husband and her very own son; both of whom she supposedly loved dearly. Yet despite the sympathy, he felt at that moment, it wasn’t enough for him to lay down for her to kill. So they fought- both with the desperation to live. And, in the end, Rus barely rose as the victor. He put two bullets into her head and stood there for a while; numb down to the core. His brother’s house was set on fire and he left it to the mob to deal with the aftermath.

From that point on, he was never the same. He vanished from the life held prior. Some said it was because of the grief held by the unfortunate end to his brother and nephew. And other claimed it was because of the alleged disappearance of his sister-in-law. The last remaining factor of the Ralston family aside from himself.

And, well, they were both right to some extent.

He never did get over the memory of his brother and his family. He never got over a lot of things, but that’s just how life was. Whatever happened in the past should stay in the past. Just like how a particular acquaintance of his red-blooded days shouldn’t have sought him out to return an old favor. One that Rus had promised to return twofold when he had been caught in a nasty situation. One that had him return to an all too familiar scene set in a different location. One that just might make New York his final destination in the journey known as his fucking life.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

Friends ( 0/? ) .  Are a very loose concept for him. Always has been, and it might be forever. They’re expendable - everyone is. That isn’t to say that he doesn’t know the value of actual friendship, though. It only takes half an eon to be on friendly terms with him; actual friendly terms.

Unlikely friends ( 0/? ) . Yes, Rus will definitely be annoyed out of his mind, but I’d love to have someone actually click with him. Specifically someone that has a vastly different personality than him. 

‘Coworkers’ ( 0/? ). Of the Syndicate. Past, current, future - anyone that had the misfortune of working with this surly dude. But, hey, at least it’s basically guaranteed things will get things done. 

Enemies ( 0/? ) . He’s got ‘em, maybe one too many, but at least he’s a formidable opponent. 

Captain planet he’s pretty relatable ( 0/? ) . Calling all fellow plant and eco-friendly enthusiasts! While Rus looks like Sam Eagle with the driest personality imaginable, he does have an incredibly soft spot for all things green. Got or need tips about the tricks of a green thumb? Spill ‘em and he’ll actually participate in the conversation. 

Found family ( 0/? ) .  Again, not the easiest but would be awesome to achieve & have me sob.

Romance ( 1/1 ). Something... something fall in love.

[lcnatic]

ibrahim-ziani​:

“Of all the outfits you could find, you just had to go with murderous space rectangles?” Could you tell he was sour Rus consistently beat him at that game? Sitting on the fire escape, Ibrahim had a clear view on his surroundings, and a spot away from the chattiest bunch. Parties weren’t really his thing. Too many folks, and eventually, this feeling that he was about to suffocate. It seemed Rus had had the same idea, coming here. “Did Nora make you add the cat ears? She did, didn’t she?” He raised an eyebrow, tossing his pack of cigarettes into his roommate’s hands.

@lcnatic​

“Just so happened to have everything for it.” No he didn’t. Who had a freshly made helmet at the ready in the back of some closet? Rus sure as hell didn’t, seeing as he didn’t ride or own a motorcycle, but he had no qualms with letting speculation fall where they may. 

Until the cat ears were brought up, that was.

Hidden behind the tinted visor, the meanest scowl warped his features. Mandatory costumes were bad enough, but the accessory made some part of his soul shrivel. 

“No comment.” 

Yet that alone answered everything Ibrahim would need to know.

With the pack caught neatly in a hand, he indulged in a cigarette. “Better hope a breeze doesn’t blow through.” Not that he had anything against flowy getups, but how anyone could have their thighs bared in this weather was a wonder to him. 

[lcnatic]

andreagalan​:

    The bar wasn’t silent, far from it – and deliberately so. It wasn’t silent on their regular nights and they’d made sure it wouldn’t be either as it flooded with people from the three most prominent gangs in New York City. No big deal, huh? They’d made sure there wouldn’t be a single second music wouldn’t be playing; the playlist was carefully crafted, the songs would blend into one another seamlessly to create the idea of a neverending night, even if the mood changed from one section to another. Even the chatter was quite loud. So the crashing of chairs wasn’t audible to her – but it was *visible*. Andrea watched the figure of a man she’d once known struggle to find his way around himself and hesitated to approach him. It wasn’t the headband sliding off but the helmet colliding into the edge of a table what finally fueled her feet forward. “Take it off,” was the obvious answer and she spoke it matter-of-factly. She wasn’t very well-versed in that culture to even know what his outfit referenced anyway.

Who knew that being clumsy would irritate him this deeply? A steady breath was drawn in and released in a slow, organized manner. If breaths could even be done in an ‘organized’ way to begin with. 

Fingers finally caught ahold of the infuriating accessory, but stilled when a voice was heard through the bass and beats. Still crouched down, Rus swiveled his head to see who it was for recognition sake and a deep frown spread instantly. Voice decidedly under lock and key, the most he did was shake his head. Though he loathed the damn cat ears, he was a man of his word. As seen by the way he ended up up in the first place. 

An attempt was made to slide the headband back on, but it didn’t fit quite right. Off the thing slid right into his hands after a millisecond. So he tried again. This time at a crooked angle and with the same results.

[blackdisneyprince]

[lcnatic]

hyun-chaes​:

for: anyone location: outside the cancún halloween party

Getting into a fight was one thing.

Wearing a maid costume and cat ears was another.

But getting into a fight while wearing a maid costume and cat ears?

Hyunwoo had thought that getting himself roped in into gang politics was him hitting the lowest of the low. But this? This somehow managed to surpass even that horrible event in his life.

He had found his home for the night near a bush some asshole had decidedly thrown up on, woefully licking at his wounds much like, yes, a cat.

God, what a nightmare.

He couldn’t remember exactly what had happened. One minute, he was minding his own business, trying his hardest to make idle small talk with people he’d never met, and the next, he was throwing punches at some guy at the bar that had gotten a little too handsy with him. It was only after the fight that he’d been told that the guy was a member of one of the other gangs, and he’d been promptly kicked out for the night.

Stupid, wasn’t it, that this was the way the night was going? He could go home, patch himself up and pretend like nothing had happened, but at the same time, the bush was comforting in its own, weird little way, and he’d be damned if he had to get up and move.

Blinking through his bleary, blurry vision, he could barely make out a pair of shoes stopped in front of him. Hyunwoo did not want to be seen nor interacted with in such a troubling time. Hell, some drunk idiot had given him a five dollar bill earlier, probably thinking he was either a dancer down on his luck, or a very festive homeless man.

“Listen, I don’t want your money. I have a place to stay and I’m not taking my clothes off for you. So very kindly, might I ask that you please, for the love of god, fuck off. Kindly, of course.”

Stuffy, that place was. Filled to the brim with thickening plots and venom tipped edges, he needed a breather hours ago. Rus could only suspect that the night air would have been refreshing once he stepped out. Yet seeing as he was covered from head to toe in fabric, leather, or plastic – that’s where the feeling ended. As speculation. 

There hadn’t been an end goal in mind of where to walk to. Something he’d been attempting to test out lately. Loosen up a bit, not be so strict with his schedule and be more.. ‘easy breezy’. 

So far, it’s been one of the greater evils he’s experienced. 

Though the helmet he wore was black from backing to visor, the tint allowed him to see more than most might assume. Hence the reason why his tracks stopped when a lumped figure was barely made out a few steps ahead. At first nothing was said. He gave the general silence as per usual. A habit of letting the words others said really sink in before given a reaction. Then he merely gave a slight tilt of head, forward to show more of the cat ears on the top of his helm. 

[lcnatic]

noravidal​:

By all appearances, Nora was all set for Halloween– with a tiny bat hot glued to her forearm and some faux spider web stuck in her hair (decorating gone wrong). A few lazy thump… thump…thump…sounds of arriving upstairs cut through the sound of The Addams Family theme song. Beast for one, nestled atop a skeleton, had learned not to bug Rus much, only greet him with a low growling sound, and Nora gave an acknowledging nod. 

There was a lot to unpack (literally and metaphorically)– a lot of boxes around her feet, decorations and pumpkins– ay, she had yet to figure out what to do with over ten of them. The spookiest of it all was Rus actually, Rus speaking, but Nora welcomed all the help she could get. “Mmm, you have a point,” a beat as she glanced over in his direction. “… Do you have any?” If not, maybe they could be found in one of the boxes… “And do you think it’d look good here, on the wall?” Nora held the web up to demonstrate. “Or should we hang it over the doorways?” 

A slight flicker of gaze to pinpoint the guttural noise and he was back to the sad adornments. “Got half a box.” No more, no less, but that would definitely cover the use of all that webbing. Heavy steps led him over to his own doorway that laid barren and clean. Locks undone, he twisted the handle and stepped inside. 

“Both. Spread it out from wall to door for movement.” 

Slam. 

For movement, what was he – some seasoned artist now? Never mind that, there were Velcro dots to find. And found they were in less than a minute ( all thanks to strict organization and tactile memory ).  Rus reemerged outside with the small box in hand. “A few go a long way so I say put them there, there, there... there and there.” Each spot was motioned to while he crossed the hall. “You need a step ladder too?”

[lcnatic]

jacknln​:

“Boredom?” Jack offered with a touch of snide. There was no way on God’s green earth or Satan’s deepest cesspit that Rus would have been involved with the Syndicate out of a want to sink into the dangerous underbelly of an international crime organization. “Oh, I have it – advancement opportunities. Really good healthcare. Dental?” He looked around the apartment. “Clearly not housing.” He worked to get a rise out of Rus, as anything was better than the slump of his shoulders and that sigh. It was like as soon as he came into Rus’ house, he kicked a puppy, such was the man’s reaction. And the deadbolts, how many of those were there? "Trying to keep people out or yourself in?” he asked. The only way he learned about people, other than looking through social media and finding their breadcrumbs was an outright ask. “That’s a lot of locks – even for a NYC apartment.” He looked around the apartment, comfortable in a place where he wasn’t welcome, stepping into someone’s home like he had a right to be there by virtue of the door opening. He had the personality of a street-cat who found a crack big enough to fit through and would take advantage of everything he found within. “Next time I visit, I’ll bring grown-up beer,” he stated, assuming there would be a next time. “I thought it would be just as much fun to sit and see if we can even drink the shit. Ah – let’s be honest, we both know the lie when we hear it. I came because I was curious – and I wasn’t going to waste good money on beer that we probably won’t drink. We won’t get through half a can before you’re showing me to the door.”

The sole reason for being locked in employment burned iron hot behind the lid of his eyes. If only he hadn’t chanced that favor.. 

If only he hadn’t done a lot of things, honestly. 

Maybe then he wouldn’t have tunneled into his current way of living. Have a nine to five with only bills to worry about. Live by a collection of odd jobs and hard labor to make ends meet. All mundane lifestyles – downright boring. He wouldn’t openly admit such a thing in a million years. Too much heartache and trauma had been spent to be so ungrateful.

“And you still tried.” It’s not surprising to find Jack poking and prodding at every which way. If only to suss out enough information to whet that depthless palette of interest. Admirable and annoying. Two things that seemed to follow Jack’s doings. 

 A single can was twisted off and cracked open with a less than satisfactory fizz. Sounded more like a pitiful leak, if anything. “One then you’re out.” That’s if he could even stomach whatever cheap concoction awaited him.

[lcnatic]

status: closed | @andreagalan @avamhollis

Thunk went half of his body into a collection of chairs – full on head first, shin impacted run in. Pain blossomed from wherever wood met body, but the heat of embarrassment was considered more worrisome. Especially when he knew he wasn’t the only person to stand witness to the accident.

One hand subtly straightened the two he hadn’t seen mere seconds ago. Damn helmet and– plink. A fuzzy headband slid off the moment he looked down. Exasperated by the whole situation, Rus refrained from sighing as he bent down to retrieve the cat ears. Then the top of his helmet bumped against the tableside and he nearly lost it. 

[lcnatic]

IMPOSTER –

... if the shoe fits... it fits.

fun trivia fact: among us is the only video game rus has ever set his hands on and it just so happens to be the only idea he could come up with after a lot of pestering from ███████ &  █████

extra fun bonus to his costume last minute: found here because he lost a bet to ( insert person here )

[lcnatic]

ibrahim-ziani​:

Ibrahim told himself that really he should have seen that one coming. Rus not knowing who Jean Paul Gaultier was? He wasn’t well versed himself in the world of couture or fashion, but he could still remember names. “Oh come on, you must have heard of him,” he refused to think that the other had his head so far up his arse he stopped paying attention even to his surroundings.

Ibrahim understood not wanting to let people close. He didn’t have exactly a problem chatting people up, but letting them close was also an issue to him. Rus pushed it even further, and it made the former soldier wonder why. They were coworkers, there was few reasons not to trust one another more. “Forget about it. He’s a guy who makes clothes for the rich. Made? I don’t know if he’s dead,” biting on the tip of his tongue, he silenced himself and covered the mended wound with gauze. “What happened anyway? Job went wrong?”

He continued to stare at Ibrahim as if the man had grown another head. “I can’t hear.” Was that.. a joke? Maybe the end of time was closer than predicted. 

A grunt left him in agreement. “Sideways. Guy’s slippery like some eel.” Not entirely unlike the very person that he spoke to, so he thought. “Landed some good hits, fell on a knife.” Rus would’ve shrugged if the movement didn’t pull at the closed wound wrong. “Same shit, different day, but I came out walkin’.” And that’s all that really mattered, right?

[lcnatic]

scnguineous​:

OPEN STARTER //  

Target shooting used to be his favorite activity, you could find him there religiously every week, trapped for hours in his toxic distraction. It had been a while since he had last set foot in the large establishment, closing the door behind him and stepping into the room.

“Speaking of the devil” said a male voice next to him “You need to see this” continued, being quick to drag Nikolai with him to the firing area, pulling a machine gun from one of the stands “It’s new. Want to try it first?” Nikolai shrugged, folding his arms across the chest. “Do the honors” admitted, eyes roaming the wide area, focusing briefly on the human-shaped targets.

The soft cocky smile on his face quickly faded as he heard the sound of the gun’s trigger unlocking — one he’d heard countless times before but which at that moment sounded too loud in his ears, making him jumpy fow a few seconds. Nothing would have prepared him for what would happen next.

It was almost like the scene was in slow motion, could see the man next to him, his finger pulling the trigger and the sequence of sounds that took him back to the night it all happened. The previously faceless human-shaped targets now looked like the ghostly faces from his past, he could see Magnus, his father, his uncle, and Lydja in all of them as the bullets left their holes. 

He could hear all the screams again for the few minutes before the noise of his heartbeat deafened him; all the pressure in his chest making the automatic mission of breathing almost impossible. Heard the reload of the gun and again the sequence of shots, even with all the panic, he only managed to react a few minutes later, his body finally obeying his command to move away.

From there, all the images turned into flashes, the path through the establishment, the blurred faces of the people staring at him inside, his hand quickly opening the doorknob and the strong sunlight that momentarily blinded him, making him bump into the person who passed by the sidewalk. Nikolai leaned against one of the walls, all the air finally filling his lungs, gradually calming his body, trying his best to get rid of the flashbacks in his mind.

“I’m sorry, I-” the man said, staring at the figure he had bumped into, breathing still fast “I needed to get out and you happened to be in the way, I didn’t want to bump into you. Did you get hurt?”

Panic, in itself, is a simple thing. It’s a way of alerting, of a  body’s own way to protect. Be it a response from immediate danger or long-term echoes of trauma – everyone experiences it. 

Some might curl their fists and gnash their teeth while others might sprint for the hills . 

Fight or flight.

A few might still in their tracks and a handful might roll over to pacify. 

Freeze or fawn.

He, himself, was of the fight variety. When presented with a particularly upsetting situation ( past or present ), his thoughts flicker off. His body reacts in it’s stead to hit and kick and punch and claw; all while feeling that spark of fear funnel into white hot rage. More often than not, the skin of his knuckles are ruined when he comes back to himself to retether rational control. 

And while he might not succumb to those episodes frequently ( thanks to the balm of time ), he is able to recognize it – almost instinctually. So when he was jarred out of a monotonous gait, he could sense it. Not that it took much to pick up on the cues; especially when words tumbled out all crystal clear. 

“Takes more to get me hurt.” His tone is dry, apathetic almost, as always, and the look upon his face was hardly any better. A onceover is taken by the eyes only, in thought of what to do. For as much as he despised unnecessary socialization, he wasn’t completely unfeeling.

“Want to walk?” A nod was directed towards the less crowded side of pavement. Though not completely void of ambient chatter, it’s the lesser evil of such a bustling city. 

[lcnatic]

[ receiving ... ]  ––– @noravidal​ : Houses covered in Halloween decorations & carving jack-o-lanterns

Contrary to popular belief, there was some part of him that actually enjoyed seasonal decorations. A small ode to the equally as convoluted yet happier times. Of neighborhood competitions and marathons of getting everything thrown up during a weekend – stressful but not dangerous. 

Now he would be eternally bitter over such trivial things. 

And what did he see the moment he clambered up the complex stairs? Unlidded boxes, spools of fake web, an oddly shaped battery run mannequin / statue (?), and at least a dozen pumpkins ( hopefully of the fake variety, lest he be assaulted with the smell of rot in a week’s time ). He, himself, could have embraced the upcoming holiday and turned into a goddamn gargoyle right then and there. 

How unfortunate it was that he lacked the ability. 

He could’ve stayed deathly silent and gone home. He didn’t have to interact, and yet.. watching the struggle of his neighbor physically pained him. “It’s more efficient if you use Velcro dots for the spider web.”

[lcnatic]

[ receiving ... ]  ––– @avishainacht​​ : 🎃 – 23. Jello in plastic brain molds

The distorted image of his own self stared back in tinted red. No wonder people gravitated away from him. A look that severe could easily be mistaken for an oncoming omen or the disappointment garnered from ten generation’s worth of fathers. 

And yet he still reached for one. 

Chilly to the touch, Rus was careful to turn the commercialized macabre.. food. Did anyone actually eat this stuff? Was it even made of real jello? What were the chances there was any flavoring instead of it being all food dye? All very serious questions for the equally as serious dilemma of basketing it or not. 

“Think the sale’s worth it?” Buy one, get one free! The obnoxious yellow and orange letters continued to sit in his periphery, even when he went to glance at the nearest person. 

[lcnatic]

[ receiving ... ]  ––– @leemalkovich​ : ❛ let me worry about that. ❜ 

One simple sentence. Smoke puffed into the heart of a busy hive to slow the frenzy. Quietness rippled throughout his mind and body, made it possible to breathe without each thought cycling at a hundred miles per minute. 

It really wasn’t an issue he needed to solve, was it?

All he needed to do was to stay diligent with his duties and see it through without fault. Anything outside of that? He needn’t worry. That wasn’t his job description anymore. 

“Sure.” And yet old habits lingered, scratched and scratched and scratched without pause. Faint, very faint, but still there. “Let me know if you do need me to worry about something.”

[lcnatic]

aysunsezen​:

“I offered to make her another drink, but she insisted on a sangria and wasn’t really flexible on changing her decision.” The woman had been quite rude as well. “So I told her to get out of my face and go somewhere else if that’s what she wanted to do.” 

Although he didn’t openly roll his eyes, Rus pushed out a breath through the nose. “Wonder what bar mixed up the right one.” Or perhaps no one did and the lady was just that emboldened with what she wanted. 

The last of his drink was drained and placed on the counter between them. Eyes glanced at the daily specials menu before he chanced to ask, “the Cowboy Coffee any good?” Whiskey, bitters, coffee, and syrup – didn’t sound like the worst combination out there.

[lcnatic]

jacknln​:

“Don’t be so flippant,” Jack said, as he invited himself into an apartment that wasn’t his, that he had no place being in, but he was like a cat. He got into places he shouldn’t, shunned attention unless he was being ignored, and disliked a crowd. “Tell me, why the hell would you decide to join the Syndicate in the first place?” he asked, setting down the cheap beer and slid his hands in his pockets, signaling that he wouldn’t touch or otherwise disturb anything.  Though, he wanted to. He wanted to see what Rus would do if he reached out, touched something he shouldn’t. Maybe knocked a picture slightly off-kilter. “I should have said hello earlier,” he admitting, turning on his heel and looking to Rus. He had formed a life in the Syndicate after Pierre infested NYC with his power-hungry megalomania but it didn’t bother Jack. His life was largely unchanged in the shift in power within the boroughs as he allied himself with the crime boss. Not that Rus was meant to live some idyllic life, in fact - “I always figured your life would end up like …” he gestured towards the door with too many locks. “I thought it’d be best to leave you alone, you know? Until I came to the conclusion that I should at least check in on you - make sure you’re not…” he paused again, considering his words carefully.  “Spiraling,” he decided finally. “Or spiraling more… apparently.” His hands came out of his pockets and he held them up in a gesture meant to surrender - but Jack never surrendered, not really, he only went to lick his wounds and come back meaner and more sly. “Don’t worry - I won’t make it a routine. Consider it a one-and-done visit. Just to see you, where you live…” his eyes flickered around - “Who you live with.” 

Make yourself at home, why don’t you? A remark left unsaid but translated clearly by the barely audible sigh that lowered the shoulders. “Why do you think?” Unless Jack had miraculously forgotten his choices and ways of living, the answer should have been rhetorical at face value; i.e., it wasn’t by choice. 

One by one the locks were redone from top to bottom. The clicks and slide of metal somehow accentuated the other’s tone. How irritating. With the door secured once more, he turned around with yet another sigh – louder, this time. “Wouldn’t be here if I spiraled all the way.” No, all the bones and sinew that constructed his body would have been rendered useless, burnt, crushed, eaten away, etcetera, etcetera. Someone would have gotten the best of him and he would’ve openly welcomed it. Willed it, even. 

“This is me stable.” Bolted and chained out of habit, preservation, and a dash of paranoia. Just any sensible soul would as a cat that had outlived more than one tail. Rus crossed the room to look at the gifted beer in detail. “Can’t say I’m too impressed with your generosity,” he noted as a finger plucked at the plastic ring surrounding the cans. 

[lcnatic]

aysunsezen​:

“I had a customer today request a sangria and then she got mad that it I made it with red wine. Apparently she’s allergic to wine.” The stupidity of some people truly had no bounds. What alcohol did she think was in a sangria? 

Ice clinked as the glass was lowered. “Did you replace it, or was she too busy throwing a fit?” The lack of change to his expression said it all. People, as a whole, will always be nuisances. Hence his reasoning to be scarce wherever possible.