Just About Closing Time (Open: 2-3 more?)

[RAY JONES]

location:Sevens

Alright, Ray was starting to get a bit antsy. It was almost midnight. Almost closing time. Almost time for Ray to head out back and take a quick smoke to wind down from the long night at work. Hell, he'd been working for hours, and the last time he'd had the chance to toke up felt like forever ago. Really, it was unfair working conditions to expect Ray to work sober. In order to pt up with these people with their whining about being on time and getting their drinks and orders and bills in a timely fashion it took a certain degree of high-ness. Right now, Ray was NOT at that level.

He was pretty sure he'd been wiping the same patch of table for the past five minutes, staring intently at the clock and begging the hands to tick down just those last few minutes. C'mon. It was almost there. Just a few more minutes standing there like some kind of idiot with his hand moving mechanically over that same spot, wearing a hole in the table and then he could head home to his apartment, get nice and high and not have to worry about work again until 6 o'clock tomorrow.

There were only a few people left at the bar, and no one was in the dining area at this point. If there had been, Ray would have hated their stupid, filthy guts for keeping him up and working to get their food. The few times that people had stayed this late and actually expected food were the occasions that Ray had seriously considered risking his job to do something foul to their food. People like that were the lowest form of humanity ever to be stuck upon the Earth.

Fuck, Ray was getting all worked up and stressed out. It was official. This day needed to come to an end. Now.

[CLARISSA RAMONE]

Working at Sevens wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to her. In fact, it wasn’t a pretty good job. It wasn’t like most clubs these days. It had an old Jazz theme with a stage for live music and the best food she’d had in New York in awhile. It had been Bashful’s idea to apply here; he’d just had a feeling. Usually, these feelings led to a character from his story. Clarissa had yet to find anybody at Sevens that Bashful recognized which annoyed him to no end. Still, he liked the atmosphere and he loved that Clarissa was far from bashful (ha ha ha) when she worked her shifts. Being a waitress came kind of easily to her.

They were nearing closing time and Clarissa couldn’t have been happier. She really didn’t like working closing; it meant getting back to her dorm late and not having as much sleep for school the next day. She needed her eight hours. Glancing around, Clarissa leaned against a column, holding onto the broom loosely. She’d been sweeping for a good fifteen minutes. The clock was taking forever. And would they even close with those customers still at the bar? Clarissa scowled at the back of their heads before glancing around. Ray had been cleaning that table for the past five minutes. Bored of sweeping, she approached him, eyeing the table for a moment before looking at him, amused.

“I think you missed a spot.” Which was silly because he couldn’t have since he’d been here the past five minutes.

[unknown]

Vincent had heaved a heavy sigh after exiting the dorm
building of Barrie University still chewing on the lollipop stick he'd
been chewing on for what...hours. His hands were shoved into
his hoodie wanting to stay warm. It was obviously pretty late
out as the sky was as black as the hoodie he wore. The wind
would straight away begin hitting his face which brought an
almost pissed off look to his face. "What a pain in the ass..."
Was all Vincent could mutter, he'd been stuck in that room of his
for hours unpacking shit that really he shouldn't of had to
unpack. It wasn't his job, the fuckers who brought it there
should of done that.

At least that's what he believed, but then he thought he was
above everyone else so that didn't say much. "This is why I
need a servant, someone to do this kinda thing for me." He'd
say with a grin on his face as he stretched his arms upward into
the air. "It's late but, I'm bored as hell and I'm sure there is
someone I can annoy to let my stress of today out on." He'd say
once more before twisting his body, the wind still hitting his face
as he pulled his hoodie over his head.

His body would begin to move not sure just where he was
heading but hoping he wasn't going to be so unamused that
he'd take his stress out at something else...like a wall and just
be even more pissed off from the pain. It seemed like he'd been
walking for at least...forever. His feet would finally come to a halt
outside of a bar, the door was wide open. Vincent turned his
head grinning as he held his hands in his pocket still. "Victims..."
Was all he muttered as he stared into the bar.

[polychrome]

Iris never quite understood the fascination with alcohol most people had. Often, it tasted like...like wet Play-Doh. And yes, Iris did know what that tasted like; during the day, she taught preschoolers. As much as she loved the little "bugers", they had an affinity for trying to convince Iris to eat the craziest of things. Unfortunately for them, Iris never came to work high as a plane, so her digestive system could only take so much.

Lounging at the bar of Sevens, Iris stirred her straw around in her shirley temple, clinking the last remaining ice cubes against the glass. Noticing that the bartender wasn't looking, Iris changed the color of her drink from a faint pink to a vibrant orange. There, that was better. Iris honestly didn't know what was holding her to her seat. Obviously, it was closing time, as she was one of the last few customers still in the resturaunts, and she was well aware of the dirty looks she kept getting from the workers. Plus, Iris was craving the joint that was wrapped up snuggly in the pocket of her hoodie. It had been a long day, Iris wanted the calm that only weed could provide to her.

So why was she here?!

Iris slapped a ten on the bar and stood up. Despite her yearnings for weed, Iris felt like she shouldn't leave, so instead of going to the door, she approached two of the waiters who were still musing about, waiting for irritating people like her to get the fuck out. Hmm...maybe they needed some cheering up. Iris was always good for positive vibes. Plopping her hand on the table, Iris concentrated and watched as the waitor's rag turned from a boring gray to faint purple. With a mischevious smile on her face, Iris said, "Hey, dudes. I'm Iris."