[As if on cue a figure emerges onto the small stage, head low and eyes to the ground, silent and perfectly content to pay the crowd absolutely no attention whatsoever. It's better if he ignores them, he finds, saves on having to look at the eager folk and their odd interest in him. Jack doesn't like interest and he doesn't like attention, he's not even sure why he even continues the farce of doing this job beyond the concept of more money.
He drops heavily into the single chair on stage, hand lifting and gaze flicking to the old school bingo machine at the desk just long enough to switch it on and get the balls rolling. Then he's set on staring at the desk before him, leaning in juuuust close enough to the mic to mutter out a dull:]
Hi.
[Another sad stare towards the bingo machine, and then he sullenly continues.]
First game, four corners, one hundred dollars.
[This is as monotone as a human being can possibly get. Boring as fuck and yet somehow still the oldies keep showing up week after week.]
no subject
He drops heavily into the single chair on stage, hand lifting and gaze flicking to the old school bingo machine at the desk just long enough to switch it on and get the balls rolling. Then he's set on staring at the desk before him, leaning in juuuust close enough to the mic to mutter out a dull:]
Hi.
[Another sad stare towards the bingo machine, and then he sullenly continues.]
First game, four corners, one hundred dollars.
[This is as monotone as a human being can possibly get. Boring as fuck and yet somehow still the oldies keep showing up week after week.]