All Boozed Up [C/Solo]

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"Oh! So you've found another job?"

"Yeah... you've treated me so well, so I'm just... really sorry."

It was late at night in Neutral Grounds, just a few hours before his shift at a small, local delivery company would begin. Before meeting Percy, he had relied on this job and several others to keep his head above water, but he only ever ended up working for subsistence. Between paying for his ridiculously high rent, food, and other necessities, there was hardly anything left after his many paychecks. He usually ended up spending it on other things he needed, like his iLac and dry cleaning. For the last year, Leon had only worked and then worked some more. But with his new job as Percy's paid assistant, the financial hardships and struggles he's faced since coming to Fiore were slowly going away. He didn't need this plethora of jobs, and frankly, he didn't have the time or energy to keep going between Rose Garden and every other town he worked in. There seemed to be only one conclusion he could come to.

"Don't worry about it, Leon! I'm glad you've found something that works better for you! But, before you go, could you do us a favor?" Mrs. Tanz grinned, her face bright with sincerity as she reassured her familiar employee.

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Leon perked up, staring down at her eagerly.


A small white truck trudged down the capital's streets with the local delivery's logo plastered across. With his arm hanging out of the window and his other on the wheel, Leon leaned back into the comfortable leather seat as he drove to Boomslang, a popular nightclub around there. In the trunk of the vehicle were crates of fragile wines, liquors, bourbons, and other alcohols that the nightclub frequently served. He could hear them clink and clack with every little bump the truck went over, and for most of the trip, he was mindlessly listening to the radio and the Blues music that caressed his eardrums.

Along the way, he drove past the venue that hosted that Singles Night not too long ago—he'd recognize that building from a dozen miles away—and watched it disappear in his rearview mirror. But the thoughts that spawned from seeing it stuck with him for the rest of the trip. Committing to this job with Percy was certainly what he wanted, but part of him would miss this job too. Out of all of the low-paying, inflexible jobs he had worked, this was by far the best. He got to travel across the country delivering things, meeting people, and spending most of the day in a small truck listening to his favorite genre of music. His boss was nice and the hours were flexible, so he found a sort of peace in it.

Leon's mind went astray, and before he knew it, he was parked in front of Boomslang with his last delivery coming to an end. Hopping out of the truck in his black cargo pants, white tank top, and a baseball cap with the company's logo on it, he opened the trunk to begin hauling out what looked to be about a dozen heavy crates of alcohol. He was no stranger to heavy-lifting and physical labor and actually preferred it that way. The door to the nightclub opened, and standing there was an employee who looked to be expecting him. They exchanged words and formalities before he started unloading the crates and taking them inside rather quickly considering he was by himself. Or so he thought.

"Eyo!" called out one man, who sounded like a pack-a-day smoker with that dry huskiness in his voice. It wasn't pleasant. He had a grey scratchy beard and short, curly hair. With him were two other men with similar unpleasant features, and quite frankly, they looked like homeless thugs and even smelled of booze. "You tryna slip us some booze, dawg?"

Leon peered over his shoulder as he lifted up another crate, but didn't say anything. He gave them one of his uninterested and yet provoking stares before continuing with his work. He knew what this was and what kind of people they were. Probably some drunks who wanted to stay that way, but judging by the shared dismissal the employee gave them, they weren't welcomed in the club either. They were probably just loitering around waiting for someone to show up so they could pick a fight—and Leon wasn't interested in anything other than making his delivery.

"Did he just..." the drunk twitched irritably when he realized he was completely ignored, and his friends seemed just as dumbfounded by the blatant dismissal. Once they realized that Leon wasn't going to stop hauling the crates, let alone give them the alcohol, a smug look overcame their faces all of a sudden as they approached the open trunk of the truck by themselves and began to reach for the nearest bottle sticking out of a partially open crate. "Wellll then! Don't mind if I do—ack!"

The drunk was just about to snatch the bottle of liquor when Leon grabbed his wrist, squeezing and twisting it enough to stop him. There was a threatening look on his face as he glared at him, the disparity in their height now obvious as Leon towered over the drunk.

"Get. Lost." Leon held the wrist in his tight grip, his fierce eyes glaring down as the shadow cast by his cap loomed over them. It looked like one wrong move and he would've eaten the drunk alive, and he knew this. The way his complexion just slightly and how he made one heavy gulp in the small silence between the two—they knew in their gut that they didn't want to fight Leon, but when did drunks ever make good decisions?

"Get the fuck off me, punk!" the drunk demanded, ripping his wrist away from the grip and immediately going in for the punch. It was sloppy, slow, and incredibly predictable. Quietly inhaling, Leon pivoted to the side when the fist would land where his head once was, leaving the drunk's stomach wide open. With one good jab, Leon planted his fist deep into the man's gut, causing him to fall to the ground, curled up on the pavement as he hugged his stomach for what felt like a dent that had been left there.

Leon clicked his tongue as he stared down at the drunk, pathetically groaning as he tried to soothe the lingering pain. They were already severely outmatched to begin with, but his spars with Percy was like adding salt to the wound. This felt like nothing, and as he looked up to face the guy's drunken friends, he gave them the same glowering look. They stared at their friend on the ground, wide-eyed and shocked, and then looked at Leon.

"We... uh..." droned one.

"Gotta... go... we gotta go!" the other insisted, and together, there both lifted their friend off the ground by letting each one of his arms wrap around their shoulders as they hastily dragged him off down the road, still moaning and groaning.


The delivery went smoothly after that, and it wasn't long before the Rune Knights ended up finding the drunks picking fights elsewhere, apparently. He only knew this because he saw them getting handcuffed as he drove past them in the small truck. All that was left to do was drop the truck back off in Neutral Grounds, and then he could call it quits with all of his obligations and make arrangements to move closer to Rose Garden. There was hardly anything to bring along with him once he moved, considering how empty his apartment was. In fact, he wasn't sure whether he should even bother bringing what was in the room at all. It was just a bed and some other things, but it might've been better to buy some new stuff once he got paid.

He didn't know—it was just food for thought as he drove along the lonely road back to Neutral Grounds, listening to the Blues as the wind blew past the open window. To be honest, he felt a little guilty for hitting the guy like that. He was an older fellow, despite being so thuggish, and they were so terribly outmatched that it was beginning to feel like he was in the wrong. In that same thought, however, the guilt immediately vanished. Leon gave sympathy where sympathy was due, but punks and thugs hardly ever earned it, especially that lot. In many ways, he'd miss this job. In other ways, he wouldn't.

When he arrived back in Neutral Grounds, despite insisting that he didn't need to be paid for his final delivery, he ended up walking home with a wrapped stack of jewels anyway. Maybe he'd buy himself something good to eat, or maybe he'd hold on to it for whenever something came up.

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