It had been a few years since... well. Since he was told to leave. He always had an idea in mind of what he would do should he become a burden, however facing the reality of it instead of just talking about it in passing were two painfully different things.
‘Getting a job here was surprising enough, I never thought I would be taking over. ...Humans are fragile.’
Probably the first few words that weren’t focused on the past to appear in a small diary. If he was to work and do everything here himself and not disrespect the old owners kindness, then he would have to improve his handwriting, and his state of mind. More so his state of mind.
‘They left me in charge completely today. I like it, but...’
Too much pressure. There wasn’t anyone there to give a command or follow up if he said something wrong or a complaint was made, it’s difficult, taxing.
‘They passed away in the night.’
They will think it was me, is of course what goes through his thoughts, but no one has to know. Cream is well suited to removing any trace of evidence, whether a cover up or legitimate crime.
‘Business picked up more than I thought. Running out of time to write things here...’
Working the day shift was always a risk. Heavily tinted windows set the store front apart from the others in the same street, a necessity, all things considered. They kept the store cool as well, a welcome escape from high noon sun.
‘Sometimes people come for other reasons. ...I am not sure I like that.’
Having the odd customer in for something more than conventional ‘sugar’ soon became somewhat of a necessity. After all, no one batted an eyelid should the encounter turn rough enough that a bite wouldn’t be out of place. He keeps his customer, they’re satisfied, and he gets fed, despite the sour feeling it gives. Keeping a low profile about his vampirism was ideal, and not necessarily the easiest thing to do. Enough prying comments about his teeth led to wearing a mouth-covering mask and blaming it on hygiene. Hiding Cream’s arm was another thing entirely, long sleeves and gloves being the minimum.
As time passed, perhaps he stopped caring so much. Ditching the mouth cover, yet still keeping Cream’s arm concealed. They wouldn’t be able to see it, so seeing a sleeve filled by nothing would be far more disconcerting than always being in gloves. He enjoys his job, it’s what he wanted to do. He gets to make all the baked goods he wants, see them sold and enjoyed, then rinse and repeat. Perhaps if nothing else it’s a confidence booster that there is people out there other than Dio who appreciated him, and a place to stay. There’s enough space in the second floor to have a place to relax and sleep.
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