Soul For Sale || fuckingis
"He can have a throne," Nigel mumbled, "just not mine."
He gave her rump a slap and then began wiping down the bar again. After a while he went down into the basement, only to find Bambi had escaped through the trap door; he decided to let her go, seeing as Gabi was more help behind the bar anyway. Besides, the fawn needed to lick her wounds.
His shift passed quickly in Gabi’s company. The clients seemed friendlier, the tips more generous, but maybe that was just his own good mood passing judgement. Either way, seven o’clock came around sooner than he’d expected.
"Ready, gorgeous?" he asked as the clock tolled. Nigel grabbed his leather jacket, shrugging into it. "We can stop at the store on our way home. I’m a little short on groceries." Meaning he had none whatsoever. Assuming cigarettes and lube counted.
Gabi found that she greatly enjoyed working behind a bar again. Although technically she was doing this shift for free, getting one up on Bambi was all the payment she needed. Perhaps it was spiteful and selfish of her to be chasing off the young blood. But Nigel had been hers first and she was reclaiming him as she saw fit.
"I'm ready."
She gave the bar one last critical look before gabbing her jacket and slipping into it. It would be easier for then to stay in her tiny flat for the night, but Gabi wanted to be in Nigel's space. To be a place that was completely and utterly him, wall to wall. There was a comfort in that.
"You mean the cupboards are empty because you never remember to buy food but always remember the cigarettes and alcohol."
