✘ askinwalkerscorned
If there was one thing about her barista job that matched the danger and horror of her informant job, it was trash juice. Eliane had decided very early on that trash juice was the essence of Ruin itself, given liquid form as a method of torturing poor workers. Today was an especially bad night. One of the new trainees had decided not to double bag the lobby trash and apparently every single customer had apparently thought that throwing away full cups of coffee and tea was a wonderful idea.
The bag had sloshed when she'd picked it up to carry out to the dumpster, and there was a messy line from where the bag had leaked while she'd carried it. Now, here she stood, looking up at the top lip of the bin and wondering if there was any way to throw this putrid bag in there without simultaneously drenching herself in the odorous slurry.
She was at least practiced at handling poorly prepared trashbags. Taking a deft step back to get her legs out of the way, she swung the bag up and sideways, easily clearing the lip of the dumpster and listening as the bag fell in with a disturbingly liquid-sounding crash. She'd splattered the wall beside the dumpster, and the stench was awful, but thankfully, she herself stood unscathed.
She was about to turn and head back inside to finish up closing, silently congratulating herself on the successful navigation of a dangerous trash duty, when some small motion in the back corner caught her eye. Her first instinct was to flare bronze, but no pulses came to her. Leaning over carefully so as not to disturb who or whatever it was, she was surprised to find a long-haired cat hiding back there.
Squatting down on her heels, she slowly extended her hand, making a soft clicking noise with her tongue towards the small animal. "Hey there," she said, keeping her voice at a calm and soothing, but not in a baby-talk sort of register. She'd never understood people who babbled mindlessly at pets and animals. "What are you doing back there?"
