[P] [M] A stranger... At a table, in a place...
...And that really pretty face, I wonder what happens when you smile.

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※But I think I could be someone you like ღ
[Image: ShaKaebab6.png]Christ. The gently flickering tube lights gave him one hell of a headache. Pulling the silver wire-rimmed glasses from his face, Mithra rubbed tiredly at his sore eyes. It was pushing midnight now, and he'd not slept enough the night before to make up for it.

Suck it up, Blacksun. Three more hours to go.

What a drag they were going to be. Especially with the bar dead as a hell. The only patrons were two coyote hybrids in the corner hush-singing some old country song to each other, slopping beer across the table as they swayed back and forth, arms about each others shoulders. Which was more exhausting truthfully, this dead, dragging emptiness, or full of life and hopping. Neither he really cared to deal with, yet, he couldn't afford to miss rent again.

Shoving the specs back onto the bridge of his nose, he came around the bar and swept the cloth across the sticky table closest and scrubbed half-heartedly at the rings and stains of a multitude of customers. Well, he succeeded in smearing about the stickiness of drying alcohol. A frustrated huff found him dropping the rag back into the bucket, and tugging uncomfortably at the neck tie.

Why the fancy-ass decoration when all he did was serve cold ones to drunk farm hands and tired laborers was beyond him, but the boss insisted. Besides, it really didn't go with the deep blue turtleneck and dark slacks. Maybe he could be hip in a sarcastic, hipster kind of way.

A gentle jingle let him know someone else had breached the outer door. Calm be with him, he prayed to the Goddess' that it wasn't some rowdy frat boys or, even worse, a bunch of giggling sorority girls. Reigning in the expression of distaste at the idea, he returned to his place behind the bar, and thanked all that was holy that they didn't serve food after 9pm. At least those dishes weren't ones he'd have to wash.

Ooc: 1

We work. To earn the right to work. To earn the right to work. To earn the right to work. To earn the right to work. To earn the right to work. To earn the right to die.

The rest of the office was dark and everyone else had gone home long ago, the marbled man sighed and sat back in his office chair, loosening his tie before rubbing his face. You would think the lawyer would have been in better spirits, winning his second case since coming to Pawllen, Pawllen and Pawllen Family Law firm straight from Pawvard Law where he graduated with honors. But his mind jumped to his next case, a gut wrenching and heartbreaking case where the mother and father were fighting for custody and putting their child in the middle of it.  Lucian had less than a month to the case and piles of files to study through. His job wasn't easy but he wouldn't trade it for anything, he loved what he did.

A yawn snuck out of his muzzle causing him to shake his head, and stretch his hands high in the air.  If he didn't get out of the office, the cleaning lady would find him asleep at his desk early the next morning.  Slipping a few folders into his briefcase, he grabbed suit jacket and headed for the local bar.  Maybe the atmosphere would have the right mix of noise and quiet to keep him awake and focused. Neon lights glowed of the wet roads from the earlier rain and the street light flickered above the establishment as he ducked inside.  Azure and marigold hues scanned the bar, except for a couple of drunk and loud coyote hybrids in the corner the bar was still.  The perfect combination he needed for some late night reading.

Finding a seat in the corner on the opposite side of the bar from the other patrons, he slung his jacket over the back of the booth and slid in to take a seat. Placing his briefcase on the table he removed a folder and laid it in front of him.  It was gonna be a long night, might as well get comfortable.  Looking up he locked on to a pair of pale yellow eyes, Lucian couldn't help but smile and waved the dark masked man over,

"Think I could get a club soda?"

He waited for a moment,

"Thanks. And keep 'em coming, think it's going to be a late night."

The light furred lawyer laughed to himself, and opened the vanilla folder in front of him, taking a highlighter and pen from his briefcase he started to notate the document, reading material not for the faint of heart.
Kindness of His Mother, Fierceness of His Father
※But I think I could be someone you like ღ
[Image: ShaKaebab6.png]Thankfully, it was just some guy. Pale face, pale hair, mostly blue eyes, and a sharp-cut charcoal suit. Maybe a business kinda guy, Mithra thought to himself as he busied his hands with re-stacking the clean glasses again for the umpteenth time.

Losing his thoughts in a daydream of what this new and comparatively interesting stranger might hold for his day-job, a kind of a hobby of his if he were honest, imagining where people had come from and what they were, who they became when they were alone. People watching was a must for someone in his position, keeping watch to make sure nothing became too unruly or dangerous. Broken glasses on his time came out of his paycheque.

The drunks in the corner had moved onto a louder version of 'give a dog a bone', a crude song that made him wince. Turning away from them with an eye roll, he caught the glance of the newcomer, and made his way over. Mithra's heavy footfalls made the old wood groan and creak beneath his hefty weight, an unfortunate side-effect of his love of too much fro-yo, late night tacos and early morning double-whip frappuchinos. Yeah he was one step above a basic bitch, sue him.

Peering down at his newest customer over the rims of his glasses, he popped a wafer-thin 'hi-how-are-ya' onto his face, and made an attempt at a welcoming smile. This effect was ruined by those damn coyotes raising their voices even further, giving a ticked-off wince that slashed through his expression for a hot second. What came back after it was even more strained.

"Club soda, coming right up. Want me to open a tab for you?"

Another round of raucous, hair-raising laughter pealed through the ghostly bar before the pale man could answer Mithra's question, and he held up a finger to ask him to wait just a second, and drew his head to the side, addressing the two men with a sharp snap of his teeth,

"Can it, assholes. This isn't a karaoke bar. You wanna be loud then you're leaving." Silence followed his outburst for a moment and he got a good dose of the evil-eye from them both, before they put their heads together and resumed their drinking in much quieter tones.

Turning back to the pale male, Mithra's eyes slid over the papers filled with tiny writing that he couldn't read from his height before settling back onto the guys face, "Tab, or no tab?" He rephrased his question in a politer tone, as if he hadn't just yelled across the bar.

Ooc: 1

We work. To earn the right to work. To earn the right to work. To earn the right to work. To earn the right to work. To earn the right to work. To earn the right to die.

Melded eyes watched the large, masked man for a moment as their conversation was interrupted by the only other patrons in the bar. The barkeeps deep voice and growl made him grimace a little and was thankful it wasn’t directed at him, when the man turned back around the soft smile returned to his muzzle with a chuckle.

"Tab will be just fine."

Leaning back a little, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a thin wallet, holding out the card which he held between two fingers, azure and marigold hues fell on the name tag.

"Thanks Mithra, I appreciate it. Names Lucian by the way, figured if I'm going to be here a few hours, might as well know my name too."

He smiled kindly and nodded and watched as the brute of a man returned to the bar before he shook his head and returned to the document before him with red pen in hand.  Word by word he went making notes in his own little world, page flip by page flip, heartbreaking notes and a few paper cuts along the way, his club soda remained filled no matter how many times he emptied the glass. Placing his glasses down, he rubbed his eyes not realizing he was highlighting his own pale fur with a lovely neon yellow color and honestly he was too tired to care. He sat back for a moment and looked around, how much time was his nose stuck in the folder? The lawyer frowned a moment when he noticed two more untouched documents he still needed to get through.  These cases were some of the worst and he really wasn't looking forward to diving in deeper, but if it helped the children, he would read until he passed out. 

Fingers ruffled up his well-kept shaggy hair and rubbed his face to wake up before completely removing his tie and unbuttoning a few top buttons on his dress shirt, he'd love to be home in comfy clothes falling asleep in front of the television, but those nights weren't in the cards for a while. Replacing the read document with a new one, the Marino picked up the red pen to get back to work, looking up for a moment back into the world around him, his eyes met with some pale pear yellow orbs and he couldn't help but smile. His gaze lingered there for a moment, maybe too long of a moment, before he arched his back and moved his head shoulder to shoulder to stretch as a yawn escaped, maybe he needed more than just some club soda.

Slipping out of the booth, the marbled man stood his knees popping as he did, and he approached the bar with his tail swaying casually behind him and a smile on his face.

"Hey Mithra, you have anything a little stronger than this club soda?  Maybe some highly caffeinated coffee or tea?  I'm afraid I still have a long night ahead of me."

Lucian turned slightly to the side so he could give the bar keep attention as well as keep an eye on his belongings, he didn't really care about his personal effects, but more the confidential papers that laid on the table. 
Kindness of His Mother, Fierceness of His Father

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