John Reese (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stellen) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2015-02-12 10:01 am
stellen) wrote in maskormenacelogs2015-02-12 10:01 am
[OPEN] I just met you, and you're in training
WHO: John Reese & whoever stops by to torture him
WHERE: "The Grind", a coffee shop near the porter in De Chima
WHEN: From 6am-3pm today
WHAT: John's first day on the job as the worst barista in history
WARNINGS: Terrible customer service & possible violence
Conveniently located at the edge of downtown near the military base and porter, The Grind is your typical De Chima coffee shop and one of five shops sprinkled across the city. It caters to busy, important people going about their busy, important lives and offers quick service and a wide variety of hot drinks and gourmet pastries.
The atmosphere is young and cautiously trendy. Popular, but not overplayed songs on a carefully curated playlist create a mellow yet funky mood. It invites people to bring their computers and pretend to work, gossip with friends over a pretentious cup or simply pay too much for a croissant and be on their way.
The staff are bright, youthful and used to dealing with the steady flow of students, doctors and lawyers that make up the neighbourhood. They memorize your overly complicated drinks, do their best to pretend they care about your day and might even know you by name- they'll ask for it if they don't. Because you're a customer, not a number.
At least, most of the staff.
There's one barista that just doesn't seem to fit in. It could be that he's twenty-five years older and a foot taller than the girl at the cash register, or maybe just because he sucks at his job. He wears a bright gold tag that says 'TRAINING' right over the one that says 'John' with a drawn-on smiley face.
He screws up every drink. He wipes down the tables half-assedly and sweeps without even looking at the floor. He barely fits behind the counter and he keeps hitting his head on hanging light fixtures and bumping into people. He'll write your name down wrong, or replace it with 'glasses' or 'woman with baby'. When he says "Have a nice day" he does it with a frayed, empty sort of smile that might make you reconsider showing your face this side of town ever again.
He's too big, too old and too haggard to be doing what he's doing and he hates every minute of it, but for one reason or another he's still there- and he's your barista.
WHERE: "The Grind", a coffee shop near the porter in De Chima
WHEN: From 6am-3pm today
WHAT: John's first day on the job as the worst barista in history
WARNINGS: Terrible customer service & possible violence
Conveniently located at the edge of downtown near the military base and porter, The Grind is your typical De Chima coffee shop and one of five shops sprinkled across the city. It caters to busy, important people going about their busy, important lives and offers quick service and a wide variety of hot drinks and gourmet pastries.
The atmosphere is young and cautiously trendy. Popular, but not overplayed songs on a carefully curated playlist create a mellow yet funky mood. It invites people to bring their computers and pretend to work, gossip with friends over a pretentious cup or simply pay too much for a croissant and be on their way.
The staff are bright, youthful and used to dealing with the steady flow of students, doctors and lawyers that make up the neighbourhood. They memorize your overly complicated drinks, do their best to pretend they care about your day and might even know you by name- they'll ask for it if they don't. Because you're a customer, not a number.
At least, most of the staff.
There's one barista that just doesn't seem to fit in. It could be that he's twenty-five years older and a foot taller than the girl at the cash register, or maybe just because he sucks at his job. He wears a bright gold tag that says 'TRAINING' right over the one that says 'John' with a drawn-on smiley face.
He screws up every drink. He wipes down the tables half-assedly and sweeps without even looking at the floor. He barely fits behind the counter and he keeps hitting his head on hanging light fixtures and bumping into people. He'll write your name down wrong, or replace it with 'glasses' or 'woman with baby'. When he says "Have a nice day" he does it with a frayed, empty sort of smile that might make you reconsider showing your face this side of town ever again.
He's too big, too old and too haggard to be doing what he's doing and he hates every minute of it, but for one reason or another he's still there- and he's your barista.
no subject
[Jonathan obligingly moves said chair after gently placing the rescued mug on his own table, still keeping an eye on John as he goes. he's trying to figure out a polite way to make it clear his offer of help extends a little further than just making it easier to reach certain niches, but isn't quite certain how to broach it without being insulting. guy certainly looks like he wouldn't mind someone else taking up the drudgery, but...
hopefully he doesn't look too awkward while he's trying to piece this out in his head (and watch out for any further falling china)]
I'M SORRY.
[ John could feel this guy staring at him as he swept, but not in any way that was antagonistic or threatening.
He glances up at him from beneath his eyelashes and tries to get a read on him. It's mostly unsuccessful, the population here as diverse in every way possible. Stereotypes didn't really exist in a city where everyone was from somewhere else.
Having lived in New York the past couple years, kindness or a desire to help wasn't at the forefront of his mind when he saw a man watching him.
John finally stood up straight, hand bracing on his aching lower back, and looks at Jonathan again with a smile than isn't unfriendly. ]
I think I'm a little old for you, but the guy coming in the afternoon just broke up with his boyfriend.
He handles a mop much more skillfully than I do.
ironically this is not actually the first time this has happened to him
[it takes Jonathan a moment to parse what exactly is being said to him - for all of the experiences he's had, both here and at home, he's still very innocent and comments like this don't immediately hit their mark.
thankfully it only takes a moment now, a pause just long enough for his eyebrows to furrow, before memories of that night in Nonah come flooding back into his head. it's a good thing that he'd put that mug down already, because he'd probably have dropped it at this point. as it is, his face instantly flushes a very impressive shade of crimson.]
N-no, I'm sorry, i-it's nothing like that! I didn't mean to imply - I was just wondering if there was anything else I could do to help!
[WHY IS THIS STILL HAPPENING DIO'S NOT EVEN WITH HIM THIS TIME]
Poor guy.
I'm not one to judge.
[ He chuckles, his smile broadening. Whether he was or wasn't, John didn't really care, it was the difference between being flattered or amused.
The violent blush was what made John drop the subject, he didn't want the poor guy's head to explode. He seems like a nice person, and John really didn't want to clean up that mess. Forget the floor, it would be all over the walls- ]
You really want to help?
he kind of brings it on himself, albeit unintentionally
Yes, I do. If you'd care for it, I mean.
[he's not trying to imply John's incapable, he just looks like maybe he could use an extra hand or two. the distinction is important to make.]
no subject
[ If John weren't sore, exhausted and overwhelmed he would feel worse about accepting Jonathan's help. Here's hoping the kid didn't think he would win his phone number by doing him a favour.
He points two table down at a bag of skittles or some other small, annoying candy someone dropped beneath the table. Getting on his hands and knees to pick that up was something he had been avoiding almost all day. ]
You're in good shape, that's probably nothing to you.
no subject
[once again displaying that inhumanly optimistic view of humanity he has, but in Jonathan World there's absolutely nothing wrong with customers helping out beleaguered employees. it's just what good people did, nothing more.
Jonathan is quite well-dressed, perhaps overly so for the locale, but he doesn't hesitate in obliging with the request and dropping down onto the floor, taking the small dustpan along with him in order to store the retrieved candies in something a little more useful than his own lap.
the comment about his physical fortitude is ignored because he doesn't have much to say about it that couldn't be construed as bragging, but it's still relevant as his monstrous size prevents him from really fitting under the table in any really useful way. he has to settle for sitting cross-legged just outside the table's overhang and leaning forward to sort of roll them towards him; he is absolutely cheating a little by using ripple to get the candies to stick to each other so he can grab a bunch in one go, but he doesn't really see anything wrong with that. this isn't a competition, so it's fine.]
no subject
Seated and mild-mannered he hadn't looked that back. As soon as he stood up John had felt dwarfed by his size. More built than even the Russian operatives who moonlighted as Olympic weightlifters. Naturally his mind went to how a body like that would function in hand to hand combat.
No doubt a solid kick would put a man of even John's size through a wall, but was he fast? You didn't get that developed by working out, so his muscle had to be functional.
He was curious, but not about to pick a fight. He purposely bumped that first mug Jonathan had rescued off the table with his elbow instead. It was farther away from him this time. If he didn't catch it, John would be out a couple dollars but at least his curiousity would be satisfied.
If he did catch it... colour him impressed. ]
Oops-
no subject
he moves with a speed and fluidity that is perhaps surprising for a man of his bulk, navigating between the tables in his way without jostling anything further. the catch is made all the more satisfying by the fact he didn't need to use any ripple to reach it in time, although this thought doesn't cross his mind for more than a flickering moment. he's just glad it didn't smash on its second trip down.]
I suppose it's getting quite attached to me.
[he laughs good-naturedly, apparently completely not bothered by the fact that John is essentially making him redo work thanks to those out of control elbows.]