Conrad&Deryk

His only table tonight at Hal's was a couple of football players being idiots, and all and all an awfully slow night.
He tapped a message into his phone, getting Deryk's number off his phone hadn't been hard, with his one track mind he wouldn't have noticed Conrad robbing him blind.

'Hey, I forgot to ask what day way good.'

He had headphones in, listening to Skin, the Madonna song he'd been compiling his show to. Knowing the song was one of the number one things, or so Zedd had told him.

'I'll pick you up at 6 then.' He shot a glare at the highschoolers he was waiting on, who were whooping and making far too much sound for four people.

He finally got tired of listening to the jocks screaming. "Bloody hell," he snapped, stepping outside and fumbling for a cigarette, trying to find his lighter. It was out of fuel.

"Fuck the world." He snapped, throwing the plastic lighter to the ground and looking around, he had a shift at the bent ducat after this, and he needed a fucking cigarette.

'Hey, can you do me a quick favor? I need something and I'm on shift.' He texted, biting his lip, it wasn't like he had anyone else to go to.

"My lighter died, could you just grab a new one for me? Just one of the shitty bic ones you throw out after a bit." He tapped his foot, looking back into the diner to the table he was charged with. "I'll pay you back."

He sighed heavily, leaning against the brick of the building, he turned to glance back inside. The table needed to be checked in on, bracing himself, he pulled himself together and went back inside.

"Any of you need a refill or anything?" He asked, as was protocol, keeping his face impassive at their quiet snickering, some of them making jokes, he swore he heard at least two gay jokes, and something about seeing if he had piercings down there too.

"Nah, we're good, see if you can get that cute blond waitress to swap with you though, she had great tits." His eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything, retreating to the kitchen.

'Right now? Hal's Diner in town.' He twirled an earbud around his finger idly, wishing the last table would clear out already. It was 9:15. They closed at 9.

"Oy! Goth dude, where's our waitress?" He heard a shout from out in the eating area. Taking deep breaths to keep from walking out there and smashing their heads into the table. After he decided he'd calmed down enough, he stepped outside, approaching them, "She's gone home, actually" like I should have a half hour ago "I can just get your bill if that's it." He prompted, silently praying they'd just get out.

"There has so be some replacement for her, doesn't there? I mean, you're okay, for a guy."