( manny jacinto. thirty-five. cis male. he/him ) benicio “ben” cristóbal muñoz has been spotted around the neighborhood, i think they’re a bartender at echelon. i heard from a friend of a friend that they’re gumptious, forthright & cold, non-committal. it’s no wonder they’ve made it this far in the city, they’ve been here for their whole life. now that i get a good look at them they kinda’ remind me of 1979 by smashing pumpkins. ( guppy. twenty-two. she/her. mst. )
ben is a long islander. his parents were immigrants from manila in the 1950s, they settled down in massapequa and had him in 1962. he is an only child which heavily factors into the way that he acts (inability to share, highly competitive, expects respect). he also grew up as a catholic, and went through the whole process of first communion, confirmation, and being an altar boy through high school. he refuses to really talk about his upbringing because it is not the cool, mysterious backstory that he wishes he could present to the world.
as soon as he was a legal adult, he wanted a fresh start. it was '80s, the drinking age in new york was still eighteen, and he was sick of the cookie-cutter suburbs, and wanted to do something bigger and better with his life. he moved to a shitty little apartment above a pizza joint (you won't regret a slice from pasquino's at three in the morning), and started barbacking at infierno. it was his first "real" job after having summer gigs through high school slinging an ice cream scoop.
within the first two years at infierno, he worked his way up from barback to bartender, quickly picking up skills wherever he had a shot at upward mobility. he continued on that path for the next FIFTEEN years! ben became the head bartender for infierno, and was a kind face to some regulars, to others he was a hard-ass with a penchant for giving newbies a hard time.
ben stayed in his shitty little apartment putting away the money he made over the years towards some big, secret project. to this day, his friends make a game of guessing what the hell he's working on, and he just shakes his head with a sigh and a smug little smirk (is it a boat? a pilot's license? a house in los angeles? stay tuned!). a stray cat eventually became his, and he became hers. named meatball for her tortoise brown coloring, and what he fed her from pasquino's spot downstairs.
with the opening of echelon, ben, depending on who you speak to, was either poached by or defected to the new restaurant from infierno. this was a bittersweet move, out of his position of head bartender but for a better paycheck and the prestige of a new culinary hot-spot.
all you need to know is that happy hour ended at 7pm, and yes it costs extra for a double even when you bat those long, luscious eyelashes at him.
did i base a character off of a single instagram reel? yes, yes i did.
— PLOTTING CONCEPTS
i often prefer chemistry just through writing together, but here are some ideas to get started:
former infierno coworkers who are pissed at him jumping ship.
"Oh trust me, if I could get away with drinking on opening night, I would, but I'm not trying to piss off Chef tonight," Nico scoffed as he leaned his elbows against the bar. He nodded at Ben's complaint about the barback and scoffed slightly before shrugging. "Like me saying hey maybe someone should put the syrup bags into the soda stations and hook them up?" he grinned before shrugging. "Too bad they don't pay us to babysit. Just do our jobs and keep our heads down, yeah?"
"you didn't hear it from me, but i think chef is pissed off all the time. it seems it's the thing when it comes to anyone who's been in the kitchen long enough," ben slides the cup back across the bar to nico, his voice low. "i'm surprised at just how fresh some of the waitstaff is. for being a 'highly esteemed culinary institution'," he says that last part with some vitriol and sarcasm, "it doesn't seem like everyone knows what they should be doing to get their shit together on opening night. this isn't a dress rehearsal, this is the real fucking deal."
“second . . . second shelf.” jasper clicked tongue against teeth and wiped his gaze over the selection, finding the bottle and holding it up to the light to double-check. he hesitantly handed it to ben with a weak smile; maybe he wasn’t as hopeless as he thought he was after all. “i’d hope so. i don’t think my grandma would ever be able to come here . . . that would be so cool, though, i bet she would love it here.”
only their siblings knew about jasper’s job. it was easier that way, keeping the change of circumstance secret—at least for the time being until they could be sure the managers weren't going to turn around and shred their contract on the spot.
his empty hands tangled together. jasper idly played with the ends of his fingers, watching the mixer gymnastics, observing ben’s almost on autopilot. the backwaiter wasn’t the only one who was enraptured. awaiting patrons stared with wide eyes and slack jaws, their complaints immediately silenced, clapping their palms together and cooing aloud.
“champagne!” jasper was getting the hang of it—perhaps he was a little too filled with false confidence. he swiped the neck of the champagne bottle and reached for the little bowl of waxed fruit, grabbing something too small and too . . . green?
"enough waxing poetic about mee-maw, let's go, let's go!" ben knew that his impressive cocktail shaking skills were not enough to keep the crowd entertained on end. he would have to start taking more orders, and soon, before they all lost their shit.
"thank you," it's the most polite ben has been all night, as he receives the champagne bottle with a smile. it's almost done, just the finishing touches and they'll be home-free. he pops the bottle with an expertise and elegance, that once again creates an effervescence and excitement in the crowd, they whisper and stare at his every move hungry for more.
ben reaches out for the last ingredient, his eyes centered on the beautiful cocktail in front of him. he knows the feeling of the citrus fruit is wrong, a lemon could never be so small. he shifts his gaze to the fruit, immediately noting just how wrong it all is. "what the fuck is this?
"does this look like a fucking lemon?" ben throws it back towards jasper. "if there's no lemons in the bowl, you go to the kitchen and grab more... got it, lime kid?"
it would have been helpful if jasper drank much at all. they would order a fruity cider now and again, maybe a sweet wine if he found himself at a bar with friends, but for the most part he stayed with the old faithful—hot chocolate. it was like a science, ensuring the powder was stirred into a lumpless paste before the milk was poured in, topping with a spiral of whipped cream, marshmallows, and a sprinkling of more chocolate. his own warm, comforting cocktail. how hard could it be when alcohol was involved?
in retrospect, the answer was extremely hard. jasper stood still, frozen, for a long second, before jerking into action and ducking behind the bar to try and find whatever ben had instructed. he felt as though he was being hazed, a new recruit in a university fraternity; they half expected to be sent off in pursuit of striped paint and a long wait whilst they were down there.
armagnac. the dark brown bottle was above his head, and jasper bumped his temple against the shelf as he ascended. one hand took hold of the neck, the other violently rubbing the quickly reddening point of contact.
“grandma? i don’t—i’m sorry, i don’t understand. my grandma is all the way back in manchester.”
before ben had stepped foot behind a bar, the most he knew about alcohol was the difference between spirits and wine. he'd had his own moment of "grandma" hazing on his first shift, and he'd made sure to return that favor to each dewy-faced newcomer. ben watches as jasper stands in an awkward stupor.
"well, this grandma isn't all the way in manchester," he adds a scoop of ice into the cocktail shaker. "it's the second shelf, three from the right. grand marnier. c'mon, c'mon we don't have all night."
ben waits as patiently as he can for the bottles. when they hit his palms, he's like a magician going back and forth between pouring the handles into the jigger, then the jigger into the cocktail shaker. it's a mindless task for him. he finally lifts the cocktail shaker, throwing it through the air, behind his back, and moving it every which way. his hope is that the performance will be impressive enough to calm the needy masses which have been waiting impatiently for their drinks. he finishes his little display of skill, and pours the shaken cocktail into a coupe glass he'd taken from the shelf under him.
"get me the champagne, quick," he snaps his fingers together, pointing to the small wine fridge under the far side of the bar. "and a lemon."
he wasn’t built for this. jasper knew that they should have tried a few more bookstores, libraries, coffee shops—but there seemed to be a shortage of employment anywhere, and despite the flamboyance of an establishment there always needed to be a grunt. they were willing, enthusiastic, and hard working; staying in the shadows of the servers and frantically cleaning up was good enough for him so long as he made rent.
the moment they pushed their way back into the restaurant, jasper was hit with a wall of heat. they were almost knocked clean over by a server with a platter towered high of seafood, a lobster teetering on the edge of a gleaming silver plate. he recoiled, grimacing, moving instead to trail closer behind ben, cowering behind his body as though it was a windbreaker. “i'm not sure where they all came from,” they mumbled, weaving in an out of the patrons, offering them polite little nods and fleeting eye contact.
“maybe they all needed a smoke break?” it was an authentic question, paired with a slight cock of the head like a curious puppy. jasper situated himself behind the bar beside ben. it didn’t matter so much that they weren’t in the back wiping surfaces; they felt out of place wherever they were. “what can i do?”
"i wouldn't put it past them with just how badly i needed one," ben washes his hands under the scalding water of the steel bar sink, already nodding towards some of the customers with the biggest grimaces. they can wait for a taste of his exquisite skills. "first, wash up. i'm going to have you on garnishes and bottle duty. the barback usually handles that, but they appear to be m.i.a., too."
ben points to the first of a crowd of customers, leaning close to listen to their order. "one d'artagnan, coming up," with an ease and elegance, ben flips a cocktail shaker onto the bar, reaching into the mixer mini-fridge for fresh squeezed orange juice. he eases the spout of the orange juice into an ounce jigger, turning back to jasper.
"your time to shine. i'm going to need grandma and armagnac," he gestures his chin towards the rows upon rows of bottles, lit from behind in a soft, amber glow. could ben have made it easy and told the kid that grandma was short for grand marnier? sure. but, that's much less fun.
there were a lot of reasons that jasper could hypothesize had given him the job. maybe the panel had felt sorry for them, a pathetic little thing on the wrong side of their twenties with little to show for it. they had no opportunities under their belt, no experience, and it was clear they weren’t a personality hire either; blunt, evasive, timid and, in ben’s eyes, self-righteous. aside from sympathy, he figured they may have just needed a grunt to do the dirty work. someone quiet and willing that wouldn’t bite back or cause a scene, filling water glasses and mopping tabletops almost mechanically.
“i have been getting it right. it’s going well. it’s just . . . it’s so noisy and busy and i have so much to do. everyone is screaming and grabbing my arms to get my attention and i just—its just—” the eruption had been bubbling beneath the surface, ready to go. it seemed that ben was the friction jasper needed to let the anxiety flow out. “i just want to do it.”
maybe he had left a path of mistakes, a string of terror in his wake—but, for now, nobody had complained, and that was a whole lot better than he had been expecting. staring up at ben, jasper brushed off his knees and stood, wobbling a little before finding their balance. “yes. yes i do,” they breathed, following along like a lost puppy searching for a home.
"this is exactly the kind of shit that a smoke break is for," ben encourages the little rant spilling from jasper, erupting would be too strong a word. "welcome to hospitality, kiddo. it only gets worse from here." his shitty excuse of a pep talk was capped off with another dismal bit of advice, "you gotta learn to bend, or else you break, when you're front of house."
the noise hits as soon as ben opens up the kitchen door. bodies are rushing around, tickets are being called out, and dishes are boiling, simmering, and sauteing on industrial stoves. the bartender effortlessly glides around chefs, sous-chefs, and dishwashers making his way back towards the restaurant's floor, the real lion's den. he doesn't check to see if jasper is staying close by, that would only slow him down.
ben only pauses for a split second when he sees the situation at the bar. "well, fuck me," he mutters, continuing to push his way behind the bar. "you weren't kidding about a line, huh? guess the rest of the bar team decided to take a hike, too."
"Hey man," Nico walked up to the bar and leaned against the bar. "Can you toss some coke in this, the machine in the service station is out and I'm so not hanging around until the servers or busboys change the syrup," he explained as he slid his cup across the bar. He sighed as he leaned against the bar and then glanced back at the bartender. "You guys have a lot more setup before opening?"
ben sets down the glass he's been polishing with an excruciating slowness. he's got to have it shine just right in the light. "one coke, sans jack, coming up," he takes the cup from the bar, lifting the bar gun to it while pressing down on the buttons for soda water and coke syrup. "the machines in back are out right before service starts? that seems like a rookie mistake," ben should hold his tongue, but he's never been too good at that. "more setup? there couldn't be enough done to prepare for the night ahead.
"i've been out here arguing with the barback saying we'll need more goddamned garnishes prepped for the night, but they've been saying that there's enough. you'd think they'd listen to the fucker with seventeen years under his belt, but no... kid thinks they know everything."
jasper’s face buried further against his knees, curling his hair around his fingers, pulling. it was something to help cope, to ground them in moments that felt suffocating. he was sure the cloud of smoke didn’t help, but he stifled any threat of a cough—even if he didn’t speak, he felt as though such an expulsion would be taken badly, too.
“yes,” he responded without hesitation, “i have for my entire life. even now i’ve moved out, i can still hear her.” it wasn’t that the finch parents were bad. they had tried their best, but leaving his sisters to raise jasper and wrapping him in cotton wool all his life had left him stranded. the quiet was welcome. it was a brief calm, the throb of parties and conversation leaking through the bottom of the side door.
he breathed shakily and turned to ben. their gaze avoided his, focusing on the slowly fading cigarette ember. “i just want to do this right. i've been given a chance here and i don't want to mess this opportunity up.”
"there's nothing wrong with breaking the rules every now and then," ben preaches. "you'll never find out who you really are if you're only doing what other people have told you do" ben distanced himself from his family as best as he could by the time he'd reached adulthood. there was the occasional call or dinner, but it was rare he took advice from his parents. even when that advice might have done him some good. "just so you know—if anyone besides me asks, i wouldn't let them know you still hear your ma's voice in your head. doesn't make for the best first impression."
it is a curiosity to him how someone so young and antsy scored a spot at a fine dining institution. for ben, his years of experience and cool-headed demeanor were well-suited for the position, he had very little to prove. "you're not going to get it right on opening night.
"you'll have time to get it right, but you don't have to do it all tonight," ben stretches his arms in front of him, one last move towards self-soothing before heading back into the lion's den. "you try to do too much all at once, you're just going to leave behind an ass-load of mistakes."
he cracks each knuckle, then his neck, readying up to face whatever line jasper had been referring to at the start of all this. "alright, you want an opportunity? let's go do something right."
Between paychecks. What bullshit. The scoff escaped from Pat's throat before he could swallow it back down. As if Benny hadn't made the choice to leave. "Sorry," the word lacked concern. "Who made the decision to leave, Benny? Because, I know it wasn't me."
He hadn't tried hard to stop Benny, and he knew that. The offer of a raise was practically a pittance. Still, the move from Infierno to some new place had confused Patrick just as much as it had upset him. Leaving for a position and pay that Patrick couldn't imagine was anywhere near what Benny was deserving of. Even if he knew that he hadn't rose to the occasion either.
"It is. But, I'm doing the polite, neighborly thing, and welcome the owner and congratulate them on their opening." He punctuated the sentence with a tight press of his lips, and held up the bottle of champagne in his hand, as if to explain further. "I may not be thrilled about it, but I can at least play nice for a couple minutes. Build a rapport between businesses. Figure we'll all be seeing a lot of each other. might as well start off on a good foot."
"you know sure as shit that what happened can't really be called a decision, can it?" ben sets his shoulders, which are more tense than when he started this goddamned break. maybe he should have stayed inside after all. "your flimsy excuse of an offer to 'keep' me was more of an insult and a shove out the door."
seventeen years of service, and this is what it got him? a bitter ex-boss, a starched button-down, and new bar patrons that were running him loony. he'd take the check, please and thank you. "at least they," ben points behind him through the kitchen door, "pay me enough to stay civil around your ass.
"what a stand-up guy," he mocks, catching a glimpse of the bottle in the dim neon glow of the alley. "you couldn't bother to go a little more top-shelf? way to add insult to injury, pat. i think weston might take that as a 'fuck you' rather than a 'welcome to the neighborhood,'" ben smirks. the bottle isn't even half bad, but it doesn't hurt to rile the nerves of this prick as much as he possibly can. karma is a bitch, and so is ben. "let's hope the executive chef knows less about wine than his bartender."
FIVE MINUTES INTO DINNER SERVICE, scouring the main floor, as is to be expected, pausing for conversation that does not have a particularly good flavour for them.
"i'm sorry, sir, but our tasting menu has never had chicken fried steak for tonight. you must be thinking of another menu." turning from one conversation into the next — what was with these ridiculous questions? would they not be given a moment to breathe? manu took that moment regardless, inhaling to steady themself. it was to the point, already, where they could feel the weight of the breath behind their eyes. ( they did not get enough sleep last night. of course they didn't. they had been awake, speaking to no one, double - checking everything down to the last portabello mushroom on order. ) "and you. yes, there is something like sushi." they could not spoil the surprises, of course. "but it's about the culinary journey, not about my explanation of it."
"but, is there anything like chicken fried steak?" he slides in with a mint julep elegantly arranged in a rocks glass. just like ben to create more tension where there doesn't need to be any. he doesn't mean to steal manu's thunder, but he's got his own job to do. it's in a bartender's unofficial job description to be charismatic wherever possible, that doesn't always mean nice. ben knows how to flex that schmoozing muscle when it comes to customers. his "chicken fried steak" comment illicits a giggle from the table.
"'scuse me, it looks like the gentleman at the bar," he uses the crown of his head to gesture to an anxiously smirking wall street prick, "ordered this special for you." ben sets the drink down on the customer's table, giving manu a quick nod.
Where: Echelon main dining area
When: 10:10 p.m.
With: anyone! (cap of 3)
Two hours in, and Helena is practically vibrating off of the smooth, carpeted floor of Echelon. No one has died so far. Which, given the din and the cavalcade of hot things flying by people's ears in both the front and back of house, she considers to be a huge success.
Which can only mean one thing: someone has to screw up, sooner or later.
The bottle of wine in her possession is a sleek, elegantly-designed thing intended for consumption by the tetchy couple at table 5. For reasons not yet entirely clear to her, they seem to be some of the only people not enjoying their historic night out. He's leaning over, seeming to entreat her to feel or not feel something, and she's slumped down, evidently not budging. A complimentary bottle should help, surely. Whatever it is they have going on – a breakup, an ankle twisted on the way here, Helena didn't want them badmouthing the restaurant over it.
She's just making her way in their direction, bobbing and weaving through other staff members, when she hits something. She's not even sure what it is, but it sends her veering downwards, the bottle tumbling out of her grasp.
"Shit!"
Her volume is kept as low as possible, even as her alarm grows, as she looks up, searching both for any smashed glass on the floor and the idiot who hit her. She's surprised to see a shadowy figure right in front of her, fully encroaching on her personal space.
"Can I help you with something?" she asks, her irritation gossamer-like in how thinly it is concealed.
ben's got tricks up his sleeves from years of slinging bottles around. he's broken more than his fair share of glasses and handles, especially when training up all of his bartending skills in his younger years, but he's got his balance and spatial awareness down to an art when it comes to alcohol. he catches the bottle before it's even made a full arc, and twists it in his grip to get a look at the label.
"looks more like i'm helping you with something," he smirks, extending the bottle towards the maitre d'. "who's getting the tablas creek?"
“nope.” sport wasn't really their scene. those were the types of people that teased jasper when they were younger, that pointed their fingers and laughed at the boy who would much rather bring a note in from home and tuck himself away in the corner with the latest stephen king novel. he was still working his way through the green mile after queueing up outside the bookstore for the next serial.
their mouth opened and closed like a fish. “i wasn't trying to be righteous,” jasper explained, although more often than not his attempts at clearing the air amounted to further misunderstanding. he swallowed and raised his hand to tug lightly the hair at the nape of his neck. “that's just what my mum always told me. don't let others force you into things you don't want to do. i don't want a cigarette.” they bit their tongue, withholding a further scolding as though they were a D.A.R.E volunteer.
down on the floor, his tugging intensified. short, desperate pulls, a reminder that they were there, they were breathing, they were a person.
"great." there's a silence between the two that is more comforting than grim, and ben embraces it with open arms. the reprieve from any noise outside of new york's typical jabber feels like a safety blanket to him. it almost feels like he's all alone, almost. it's interrupted again by D.A.R.E. jr.
ben releases a frustrated exhale.
"do you always do to what your mother tells you to?" ben wouldn't push a cigarette on them, especially if it meant he could keep the last one to himself. jasper didn't have to convince him twice. the silence returns, and ben is more than grateful to put an end to the cigarettes kill conversation. one he's already had with his own parents every holiday season since he turned sixteen.
ben finishes his cigarette, and the moment of calm is over.
"okay," he smashes the butt against the concrete. "let's try this again... why did you come out here like someone lit a fire under your ass?"
"exactly why i'm getting us zippos instead--have some use with the money i get every month, it's no big deal." regardless of their last interaction three years ago, haliya's father still sends her money here and there, which she begrudgingly uses, she's got needs anyway, and wouldn't the fact that living on her paycheck alone isn't enough. yeah, i kind of had a hard time getting in, glad jasper was outside when i got here, sort of helped in inside." she chuckles lightly, scratching the back of her head. "oh, so like...usual nights, huh? you deal with stupid idiots who just wants to brag shit to whoever they're with, to compensate whatever little they've got?" she says before taking a long hit of her cigarette.
"so...it's kind of like...same shit, different night, new place...better paycheck?" she couldn't help but ask. not that she's planning to leave infierno, that place is a part of her now, and she loves being able to work there and how her craft. "don't think that you can escape me from annoying you, though. you'll still have to deal with me every now and then."
"have you ever read that kids' book, if you give a mouse a cookie?" he asks, leaning further against the building's exterior to stretch his legs. "if you give a bartender a zippo, he's sure to come back for lighter fluid. when he comes back for lighter fluid, he might ask for a cigarette. when he asks for a cigarette, well, you'll have to give him the whole pack. so on, and so forth, until we're both dead and buried." a smoky laugh erupts from his lungs, a little cough hidden within.
"that's this whole city, isn't it? 'same shit, different night,'" he repeats, moving his empty hand to the melody of his words. "yet, we've all stuck around for some sick reason. i swear to god there's a curse that's kept us here." ben didn't expect to be thirty-five, bartending at new york's next big culinary spot, living in the same apartment he'd had since he was eighteen. yet, every single one of those statements were true, and would probably remain true for the rest of his life.
having haliya come back to annoy him on shifts didn't sound like the worst thing in the world. she was a connection back to infierno that didn't leave him with a slick and icky feeling in his gut. "just know, there's no friends and family discounts around these parts. i just started here, i'm not ready to lose it all by giving everyone i know who comes around a discount here and there."
familiar smile, influenced by ben’s mocking, makes an appearance. “ what can i say? if i’m going to partake in unhealthy habits, i want to have a constant, unpleasant reminder of it. ” & nothing is as sore of a reminder than the bitter taste of a newport. ben should know by now, jiho doesn’t shy away from absolutely throwing themself into the fire of self destruction.
“ sounds like you’re having a great time, ” they jest, lightly bumping shoulders with the other before lighting their own cigarette, cupping the small flame with a tired hand. you would think the long - awaited opening of echelon would have meant less traffic at its gritty counterpart but that was hardly the case. he would never voice it aloud but the days did pass by as slow as molasses without his favorite coworker there. jiho missed how willing the other was to partake in the ‘ question of the day ’ trend he’d started, going around and asking each & every coworker one, arbitrary inquiry. or trying to get on the others nerves by stuffing his apron with spare change.
“ oh, that’s one way of putting it. you remember that one girl, the one with the highlights and the glasses? she still comes in every thursday night asking where you’re at. ” pauses, watches their smoke twist in the air like two phantoms. “ i told her you left to fully pursue your newfound love for collecting clown dolls. ” this time he looks at the other when taking his next sharp inhale, “ she still came back next week, believe it or not. ” in typical jiho fashion, avoiding telling ben the mundane truth that ‘ yea, it kinda sucks without you. why did you leave me in that place? ’
"unhealthy this, unhealthy that," ben moves his free hand in a puppeteering motion. "if they're really that bad for you, why are they so good?" he twists the end of his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, watching the red and orange of cherry spin in the dark.
"thank fuck i jumped ship when i did," ben sighs, trying not to think so hard about the last conversation he'd had with pat and sabine. it hadn't gone well, to put it lightly. "i'm just happy that i'll be able to put a little more cash aside now. things were starting to get tight back at infierno. it's not like seventeen years with them meant shit, i guess."
the girl with the highlights and cat-eye glasses, she always wore revlon black cherry on nights she came in to see ben. he knew her, thursdays would definitely have less of a tip incentive without her coming around. "you fucker," ben finishes the last of his american spirit, and puts the butt out against the alley brick. "if she finds out where i am now and starts asking the difference between pierrot and harlequin, i think i'll have to hire a hit on you."
there were plenty of reasons ben could hire a hit on ji ho, this was just the tip of the iceberg. "don't think you'll get the same tips i was getting from her just because you're trying to give me a bad name."
thank fuck . there’s only one hour left into dinner service . and as surprisingly put together as melina looks , she certainly doesn’t feel it . a moment of reprieve comes in the form of a ten minute shift break . quite frankly , she thought she’d work through it but hey , she’ll take it . melina makes quick work to undo the top button of her chef’s coat as she practically bursts through the backdoor . adrenaline courses through her . knuckles are white from the sheer grip she has on the water bottle she managed to snag .
she’s been on autopilot , almost as if she were on the outside watching herself work . hands shakily move up to tighten her ponytail before leaning against the brick wall of the back alley . she takes three calming breaths . as if that’ll help . head turns to raise a brow at ben . “ oh i wouldn’t dare , ” she’ll let out a laugh . “ i'd like to think i know better than to test a bartender on a night where the bar's jam packed . i'm just taking a guess here , i haven't set foot outside the kitchen until now . besides , i need a water break way more than i need a smoke break . don’t know if the same can be said for my colleagues . ”
"one hour to go. you sure a nicotine pick-me-up wouldn't help you finish out strong?" ben couldn't remember the last time he'd had a sip of water. it was definitely before his shift and after an honorary shot to start the night. just the look of the water bottle has got his mouth watering, and his dull headache turning sharp. he licks his lips, and to hold the craving back he slips the cigarette back between them.
"have you heard whether or not we get a comped meal after this whole debacle? bar staff hasn't had much communication with kitchen staff, like usual," he bemoans, crushing the butt of his cigarette beneath his boot. "i need to know whether i should start planning to run for fast food at midnight, or if i can expect the good stuff."
it was too loud inside. too warm, too busy, and the smell of cooked food turned jasper's stomach, he found out. there was a reason why the meals they cooked for themself were always a predictable and safe shade of beige. “i don't know what that means,” he admitted. honestly, he rarely knew what anything meant.
half of jasper knew that he should have turned back around, returned to spearing receipts and collecting dirty plates. but the fresh air—even if it was heavy and suffocating with smoke—had his heart rate gradually slowing, giving him a wedge of time to relax (as much as jasper could relax, anyway). “peer pressure isn't going to work on me. smoking isn't cool. it damages your lungs.” his pitchy mancunian lilt sounded as though he had been plucked straight from an anti-smoking infomercial.
slowly, he lowered and tucked himself against the wall. jasper pressed his chin between both knees and released a deep sigh that he hadn't realised he had been holding. “i might . . . i might just take five minutes.”
"you watch the olympics this summer, kid?" ben's eyebrow pops up in curiosity. "canadian sprinter... won gold... nevermind... just chill the fuck out; take a load off."
jasper's little virtue signaling moment has little to no affect on ben; he proceeds to take a longer drag than any of his light sips before. the cloud he blows out into the alleyway fits right in with the smoke coming off chimneys and out of the restaurant's ranges. "no peer pressure here," ben ashes the end of his cigarette. "no moral righteousness out here either, 'kay?"
as jasper takes a squat alongside ben, there's a soft sense of pride that fills his icy heart. "that's the spirit. boss makes a dollar, we make a dime, that's why we smoke on company time."
"thanks, don't know where i left my fuckin' lighter this time." haliya tries to quickly lights up her cigarette, though she did struggle a bit, as ben was saying, it was surely about to lose it's flicks. "m'gonna buy us zippos one of these days...this one's about to be tossed in the bin." she chuckles, handing it back at her former coworker whilst she shakes her head. the dj had seen seen a lot of them jump ship to echelon ever since its name came to light, and she honestly was just...alright with everyone and with it. though, whatever that's lingered around it, it was a choice for her to not really delve on it.
"needy? yuck." she responds with a joke, chuckling lightly at him. "i did see the bar was fuckin' packed though when i got here, i honestly don't know how you do it back it." she says with a grimace, recalling the days where she gets to watch ben from her booth. "you're loving it though, right? new place, new shit..."
"the bic ones are cheap," says the man who picked his current bic off the floor for free. "who needs to remember where they left theirs when they can just buy a new one at any convenience or grocery store around."
a zippo sounds nice to ben, it would be a definite upgrade from the shitty disposable lighters he's had through the years. even on his own budget, he could bother to upgrade to something longer lasting, but he was stingy wherever it counted. "if you're buying, i won't say no to a nice zippo."
"it's stayed packed all night, i'm surprised i even got fifteen minutes for my break. i would've been happy with five," another puff slips between his parted lips. "everyone's been ordering craft cocktails to show off, and its pissed me off the entire night. they're trying to one up each other by ordering top shelf shit, when it would be just as good with our well drinks."
was he loving it? he had an hour left in his first shift and he couldn't say. the tips sure weren't coming in as fast he he wanted, especially when he knew just how much every customer was spending on their tabs.
"i'm loving the new paycheck. very little has changed with the actual job. same drinks, same drunk assholes, same party tricks to keep bringing people back for a second, third, and fourth drink," he shrugs.
