Shrike7
Lurker
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2008
- Messages
- 7,437
- Reputation score
- 102
Jaylene let out a sigh. Another slow day at the Toad, and that meant less tips, though she did get better ones from the customers that did appear, as she could spend more time with each of them. The other waitress had gone home early as well, leaving her the entire floor to herself. A glance at the clock showed that nearly half of her shift had gone by, and she had only three customers at the moment. There were a pair of men in one of the booths talking quietly, one a regular and one she had never seen before, and a woman she knew was a golddigger, who looked about as disappointed at the lack of people as Jaylene did herself.
The sound of the door opening drew her attention. A man strode in, looking rather road-weary. A little under six feet, wearing simple clothes under leather jacket and pants, he looked like a biker. He had a day old stubble and a set jaw. There was something off about the entire image, though. The way he stood, how he walked, didn't match the perceptions Jaylene had of a biker. It was like he wore all of it, but it wasn't him, wasn't who he was. There was something about that that endeared him to her, in some small way.
He looked around the bar, locked gazes with the man in the booth she had never seen before, then shivered a bit and went to sit on the opposite side of the bar. He walked with a fluid grace, speaking of confidence and experience as he settled down in a seat, examining the items on the wall for a moment before his gaze settled on the television and stayed there, watching sports commentary.
The sound of the door opening drew her attention. A man strode in, looking rather road-weary. A little under six feet, wearing simple clothes under leather jacket and pants, he looked like a biker. He had a day old stubble and a set jaw. There was something off about the entire image, though. The way he stood, how he walked, didn't match the perceptions Jaylene had of a biker. It was like he wore all of it, but it wasn't him, wasn't who he was. There was something about that that endeared him to her, in some small way.
He looked around the bar, locked gazes with the man in the booth she had never seen before, then shivered a bit and went to sit on the opposite side of the bar. He walked with a fluid grace, speaking of confidence and experience as he settled down in a seat, examining the items on the wall for a moment before his gaze settled on the television and stayed there, watching sports commentary.