Icarus Right on time as usual, a more tired than usual Icarus joined his boss for another night of work. He was still buttoning up his black vest as he entered, offering Ahote his usual smile of greeting. Though something had definitely happened the night before, Icarus would show no unusual behavior. A fling was just that. A fling. Nothing good would come out of making it weird. It was as if it hadn't happened at all, or that it was nothing more than a very pleasurable dinner with a friend. He was no stranger to these sorts of scenarios, though the boss and employee dynamic had only happened once and had been flipped on him in this case, but this was no where near that. No, it couldn't be. He couldn't think of it like that. If there was anything in life that could ruffle his feathers, it would be allowing his mind to linger back to the best and most heartbreaking days. His heart was locked in a steel vault now. May Omera guard his thoughts. Taking his place behind the bar, Icarus did one last stretch of his arms, extending his intertwined hands in front of him until he heard the satisfying cracks of each elbow, followed by a symphony from his knuckles. His mother would have been horrified, though now that he thought about it, she would be absolutely mortified by every single thing he'd done since leaving, as if the reason for his escape hadn't been enough. "Ready for another night of slinging drinks and wild customers?" he asked, giving the counter an extra wipe-down with a rag. As glanced at Ahote, though his cool expression didn't show it, he for the briefest of moments if their encounter was a one-time thing or if it would be added into their after-shift normality. Icarus certainly didn't mind either way. |
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