for: @celeste-carlisle
He'd broken up with Isabelle - or rather, she had broken up with him - four years ago. Back then, Cass had been a teenager, nineteen and heartbroken, and yet he retained the sense of pride which had him refusing to accept help or even acknowledge that he was hurt. Hence his decision all those years ago to avoid the rest of the Carlisle family to the best of his ability.
Which he did well, to be fair, or so he thought. If he heard about big town events, Cass avoided the radius for fear of catching a glimpse of Mark or Celeste around. He didn't seem to shop at the same grocery stores nor frequent the same locations as the affluent family, and if he saw one on the street he found a reason to quickly duck into a nearby building or turn into an alley. Celeste came into Bolt's, he knew that much from seeing her name on invoices, but she seemed to deal with Jeremy mostly, and on the few occasions they were on shift together he chose to conveniently take his vape break or lunch break at the moment of her arrival and hide out the back until she had left again, never needing to personally deal with her. Until the phone call less than an hour earlier, explaining Celeste was stranded with a flat tyre just a few blocks away, and with Jeremy having finished for the day and Ryden and Roman otherwise disposed, the job fell to Cass with no opportunity for him to wriggle out of it.
So here he was, parking up behind her and foolishly wondering if maybe he might get away with not being recognised. He'd lost his baby face in the four years since the breakup, become angular and more tired looking, shadow of stubble across his jaw and hair a longer, messier affair. Still, he quickly realised that was a dumb hope. Even if he'd made an effort not to be seen, he couldn't guarantee he hadn't - he did now live next door to Isabelle. And at the end of the day he was the same person with the same face and the same name. Cass, clear as day on a nametag on his overalls, a label worn to try and make him seem more approachable on call outs which he now resented even more than when it had been suggested to him.
"Hey," he said simply as he exited his own car and glanced at Celeste's car rather than Celeste herself, cutting right to it, "you need a tyre changed?"
