Davian Rivera-Triádhos (antitestament) wrote in st_margarets, @ 2015-09-01 02:16:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | character: davian rivera, location: duke's diner |
Narrative: Lunch Rush
WHO: Davian
WHEN: September 1st
WHERE: Duke's Diner
"Who the fuck leaves ketchup all over the plate like that?" Davian demanded as he picked up the dish by two fingers as though it might as well have been blood and not ketchup smeared over the surface. "This is a fucking joke! It-- Oh my fuck, it's even on the bottom!"
No one was listening to him, of course. Duke's was having its lunch rush and everyone was swamped. It was the last week of summer break and the tourists were making the most of it. Duke's was packed to capacity and every waiter and waitress was hopping to get orders. The kitchen was an angry beehive of activity, fryers crackling, flames sprouting, knives chopping into heads of lettuce and tomatoes and constantly the chef shouting what he needed as orders arrived.
Davian's apron was soaked, strings tangled behind him and dragging on the floor. His sleeves were pushed up his arms and pinned with bag clips on his shoulders. He'd employed a bag clip on his hair, too, twisting the thick dark locks into makeshift pigtails over his chopped off horn stumps.
Davian rolled his eyes and dropped the ketchup bloodied dish into the soapy water. Dish boy, that was him. Even the dish boy was busy trying to keep up with the flow of dishes that packed the back room. His job was an important one, as un-glamorous as it seemed. If he didn't wash the dirty dishes, the chef couldn't put the food onto clean plates, and the customer didn't get their food. But holy fuck, Davian was ready for a break.
It was bad enough he was still trying to get used to Paxton being back in Las Vegas, Ambriel being off in some country Davian was sure was better than being in a greasy restaurant all summer long. But now he had to deal with another demon being there. Not a halfsie like Ripley and Dallas. A full demon. Granted, it was just an incubus. But still. Spies came in all shapes and sizes.
"Davian! I need spoons, pronto!" the manager shouted back in the direction of Davian's corner room.
"Fucking get your own!" Davian shouted back.
"Fucking wash me some spoons or I'm dunking you into that fucking water!"
Davian rolled his eyes and grinned. His manager always knew how to talk to him. He dug into the suds, fishing out the utensils requested, and scrubbed at them. If he hadn't been so busy all summer with his job and the summer classes, Davian knew he would have worried himself into a bad state of mind. "Yeah, yeah, fucking yeah."