theattic | THE SANDBOX

JW figured he'd lost his advert. opportunity then when Krem blustered out Bull's order. But then something happened that made him tilt his head.

Well then... This soldier boy was bound and determined, wasn't he? And here JW thought that he was just trying to score a free meal. It was something he would have done himself after all. But the question now was why?

He rung up both orders and rolled off another shrug before rounding the counter and gesturing to one of the little tables near the window. If they were going to share, they were going to do it right and proper!

The baker sat down and threw one mile long stork leg over the other and draped an arm over the back of the wire chair.

"Thanks for spottin' me, I'm starved."

He hadn't known what to say when JW went to sit down. He hadn't seen him outside of behind the counter, and it was almost like shattering the illusion. He should be back there, and Krem was perfectly fine being on the other side. It was strictly business transaction, and the fact that he remembered some of those stupid nicknames Bull thought up for him was just good business practice.

It's funny how he's so nervous all of a sudden when the routine is changed though, and he hesitates before he grabs the unsealed bag after paying, setting down across from JW. He can't help but spread out a little when he sits though, a habit that comes from both being used to wearing bulky armor and hanging around a man who took up all the space he needed without a care in the world. "Aren't you the owner? I thought you could sneak bites all you wanted. You- Oh...You were serious when you said you were on a diet?"

JW, meanwhile, made a general habit of taking up as little space as possible. It came from growing up regarded as a gangling freak of nature.

"Pure self-discipline," he said proudly, pointedly staring at that bag. "But the money's all on you, so it's all good. G'on, open 'er up, I haven't tasted one of these things in ages!"

"Bull always says don't trust a skinny baker, but I think he makes an exception for you." And in a moment he's going to learn why. He'll open the bag up through, slipping the pastry out and setting it on top, just about to divide it between the two when his pocket chirps out a tone, Krem frowning. "Go ahead, I won't keep you waiting," He murmurs as he reaches into his pocket to grab his phone again, an impatient text telling him to hurry his little ass up and not take his sweet time.

He'll respond quickly enough with some shit about how he's got enough sick days banked for the world, so he can wait. Waiting for what he won't say, but he's sure going to catch something when he gets there. "Sorry."

"Bull doesn't know what he's talking about."

The pasty was just that--a fluffy twist of two strands of cinnamon bread covered in a glaze that had cooled beautifully and started to flake. JW expertly split the bread helix apart and leaned back in his chair again. His whole face lit up at the taste of it and seemed to shed literal years.

"Mmf, perfect. No surprise there." He opened an eye when Krem's phone chimed. "That can't be him. Doesn't he know patience is a virtue?"

When Krem glances back up, the sour look is gone, and he can honestly say he's never seen JW look quite like that. "Self control, but modesty doesn't seem to be on your list of virtures," He manages to tease, because it makes him stop thinking about the look on the other man's face and reaches for his own half, taking a bite. And he can guess why Bull sends him here, and why JW isn't modest, because that's damn good. "Oh..." Because he doesn't want to hum around a bite like the cinnamon isn't perfect, and he stuffs his mouth with another bite to keep him from saying anything stupid.

He shrugs at the comment though, shaking his head, "I'm always on time. He might be an ass, but he notices when something seems off, he's good that way. I can't fault him for worrying, though I think he's more worried about his cupcakes, but he'd probably agree with me so he didn't have to say straight out it's me he was worrying about." It helps them both save face. He's not some damsel that needs saving anyways. He can take care of himself.

"Nope," he said happily around a mouthful. And neither were table manners. He listened though as Krem explained. Krem always talked so fondly of Bull whenever the big man came up, but JW had been a wild child nearly all his life and in being his own boss, hated the idea of some clock-watcher telling him where he ought or ought not be. "Well, tell 'em I'm taking a while. I've got that bad back, you know. Makes a man slow on cold mornings."

Krem laughs, though he'll probably not. He didn't even have to come up with an excuse if he wanted to. Their job wasn't until later anyways, but coming to work earlier was always the plan, before the rest so they could talk tactics, plan some. Which usually on a routine day like today was him sitting and going over the legal and Bull approving things over his shoulder while munching cupcakes.

"I come in early every day anyways, one day won't kill him." He takes another bite of his cinnamon twist and sighs, leaning back in his chair himself. "If this turns into a habit I'm blaming you. I've got to work it off later or it'll go straight to my-" He swallowed, reminded that he isn't in Bull's company and with someone else, a certain baker to be more specific, and he'd rather not any awkward questions coming up. "gut."

"Hey, hey! Don't blame me!" He polished off his own half and brushed the crumbs off his hands onto his apron. "Not my fault for being born a culinary god. You mortals will just have to control yourselves."

He was having fun now. When he grinned, he was visibly missing at least two teeth and each one had left a story behind.

He leans forward again, taking his own last bite and doesn't hesitate when he licks his fingers. He forgot how much he liked cinnamon, though smile at the other man's boasting. He'll notice the teeth, and being the fighter he is, wants to mention them, "You might be a culinary god, but you don't look like much of a fighter, no offense. Someone beat those teeth out of you? I've almost lost a few myself." He had a few good scars on his upper arms between the gaps in his armor, on his thighs, but thankfully he hasn't gotten any on his face.

Bull took that one for him. "I've got a sturdy jaw, though can't say as much for my nose. It looks good from the side, but you catch the right angle and you can tell it's crooked."

Edited 2016-01-29 12:42 (UTC)

JW swiftly closed his lips and displayed yet another new expression--embarrassment. Oh, right. He looked like a hick. What was he even doing? That sour frown reluctantly made itself at home again as he listened to Krem's story. He had no doubt that the guy was covered in scars of his own--but he was supposed to. He was a soldier! He wasn't someone handling food. And still, as he spoke, JW couldn't keep himself from hoping. He hadn't just sat down and had a nice chat with anyone like this in some time. And Krem was right. JW turned his head so he could look at him with his good eye. His nose was a little crooked.

"You can hardly tell, honestly. Thank your lucky stars you didn't end up with a beak. As for my teeth, that story isn't free."

Was he being sneaky? He felt like he was being sneaky.

"Well, I don't think birds are so bad," He'll say casually, gathering himself up and moving to stand, he'll crumple up the bag his cinnamon twist had been in and toss it easily, moving back to the counter to grab Bull's cupcakes.

"I'll see you tomorrow, though I might come in early." He gives JW a little smile, a little more honest than his previous ones, showing all that reserve despite his language and talkative personality, "That way when I get you to tell me, I won't get any texts from the chief."

It's all said so fast, because he doesn't want to lose his nerve, and as soon as the word 'chief' passes his lips, he's out the door and moving down the street, not even looking back. He's going to sorely regret it if things are awkward tomorrow morning and every other new day that brings him to the bakery.

Early, huh?

It was still dark as the inside of a dragon when the bakery lights came on that next morning. JW didn't know how early this soldier boy meant, but he aimed to have a tray of whatever he might pick made and piping hot by the time he came in.

That doubtful voice stayed in his head though. He was only using you and you caught him at his game.

JW whistled to distract himself as he bused tables and wrote out the chalkboard specials for the day.

Krem had gotten the twenty questions routine when he had slipped into the office fourty-five minutes later than he usually did. No one but Bull was there, which was nice since it would just be the chief giving him shit, but he gave no details. It was when he had bowed out for a night at the bar that he had really outed himself that something was going on. Bull suddenly had this knowing look when he said he had to get up early tomorrow, and he just kept his mouth shut while the rest of the boys looked at him like he was crazy. Borderline alcoholic that he was, he could pass up wine if it meant getting a good night's sleep and showing up early to see a certain someone.

And an hour earlier than the day before, the bell at the door jingled again, Krem stepping in and while he had tried really hard not to make it look like he had tried more that morning, he had actually put on cologne this morning after a fight with himself about how stupid he was being and just do it, but at least he hadn't over done it. He caught JW with his back to the door though, eyes trailing up the long column of his back, though he's immediately struck by a much more potent smell of baked goods, more than he would usually smell coming in later. Things were still baking, and damn did it smell good.

"Morning, hope I'm not too early."

JW had been stooping down to write on the chalkboard when the bell rang and the T he had written at the beginning of Tarts screeched all the way across the board. He shot upright in an instant and looked very much like a deer caught in headlights.

So here they both were, as promised, at the crack of dawn in an empty bakery. Somewhere in the kitchen, an oven went ding!

"Right on time, actually..."

The sound of chalk screeching across the board gets him to wince, though it's not the worst sound he's heard. Try and listen to Bull singing in the shower, but really, the lok on JW's face when he turns, gets him to smile. "You weren't expecting me," he says plainly, though he does move to sit down in the same chair he had he day before, spread out like he always did.

"Something smells good though, or a bunch of somethings. What time do you get here to start all this anyway?" He had never really paid attention to what time he closed either, and he was open almost every day. Man must work like the Chargers worked, relentlessly and when there were contracts to finish up.

JW opened his mouth to defend himself, but Krem was right. A large part of him hadn't expected him to show up early. He had planned on scolding himself for being too stupid and putting in an extra hour or two of work that he hadn't needed to.

The game had officially begun then.

He coughed and put his gameface on--that boastful smirk from yesterday. "Who said I ever went home?" After fixing the chalkboard, he made his way behind the counter. "What'll it be?"

"You got a bed back there?" He asks casually, because he's sure he doesn't, but he can see him being enough of a workaholic to live where he works.

He'll glance over at the display case though, curious, and look over at JW instead, perhaps a little hopeful. "You got any more of those Cinnamon things? I'm not much for sweets, but that was damn good." Maybe if he comes by tomorrow morning he'll branch out and get a fritter, but the cinnamon smells too good to want anything else.

"Who says I sleep? I'm a god, remember?"

JW quickly fetched two cinnamon twists and some napkins. One more trip into the back for some coffee from his very own coffee pot and he was sitting across from Krem in that same folded-up way. Before he could take a bite he broke into a huge yawn.

"Looks like you've still got both your ears."

"Well, I'm thinking you don't, or at least haven't. You look ready for a nap." Judging by the yawn and the presence of coffee, he's trying to avoid taking one though.

He'll lean forward on the table though, ready for a good listen, potentially able to share a story of his own as well, but he'll nod to him, a little uncertain, but... "You also look like you could use a break. When's the last time you went out and did anything?" The chargers, maker willing, would be going out again tonight, though he isn't sure if he's ready to ask the man to join them. That might be too embarrassing, or someone in their drunken stupor might say something stupid. He'd rather avoid that for a while.

"I went to the grocery store yesterday," he said before finally taking a bite. He liked this new method of cheating. Sure he tested things to make sure they were quality, but he never sat down to enjoy them. The most he made for himself was an omelette or a sandwich. Maybe an orange once in a while to keep from getting scurvy.

"That's pathetic," And he says that in the nicest way possible, speaking like he'd talk with the chief, "I mean really go out. There must be something you like to do. I...I'd go with you if you needed some company."

And then Krem promptly stuffs his mouth with a bite of Cinnamon twist because well. That makes it so he has a few seconds to come up with something to say if the other man shoots him down or says something ugly.

JW lifted a brow as Krem muffled himself. He had a feeling the guy was going to be incredibly disappointed, but he did ask. "I walk. I find things on the ground. Sell 'em. The bakery is much more exciting, trust me."

"Hey, if it's a hobby it's yours. Don't tell anyone, but when I'm not fighting I like to sew." He had swallowed in record time because that wasn't a no, even if it wasn't a yes either. "Doesn't have to be exciting to be something you like."

He had picked some things up from his father when he was younger, though back then it had been mending clothes and helping out when his mother thought it was right work for a person like him. Embroidery was her idea of sewing, even if he had wanted to help his father more. He had never protested when she wasn't around though, so Krem had at least picked up a few things. "Anywhere in particular you like to walk?"

The baker's guarded frown lessened some. He still wasn't so sure he wanted Krem along for his little treasure hunts because some of that 'finding' bordered on stealing. But still. It would be nice to walk the long roads with somebody else for a change.

"Hope you know how to deal with faeries then."

The good stuff was always guarded.

"What do you sew?"

Was JW considering trading baked goods for some pants that reached his damn shoes? Yes, yes he was.

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THE NEXT DAY

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