Gabriel's knees are always (skinned) wrote in repose, @ 2015-12-22 04:03:00 |
|
|||
Perked up by the smell of brewing coffee in his nose when he made his way from the diner’s kitchen into the front of house, Ronan tucked his chin against his chest as he pulled the strings of his apron around his waist and tied them together behind the small of his back. Just a double-check to make sure that he had his pens and his little wire-bound notepad tucked into the pockets of his apron, and he was making his way over to the first new table in his section, a four-top in one of the booths that ran the length of the diner’s streetfront window. |