Doin' Time. }{ OPEN.

[ANDREW WILLIAM McLEAD.]

Working late sucked.

Working late sucked even more when it was a Friday night, and some friends had offered an interesting night out... Okay, in. They wanted him to come over for a 'party' which usually meant quite a few unmentionable acts, and truth be told Andrew was in the mood for one or two of those acts right now. Instead, though, he was taking orders from wimpy vegan kids with curly hair and save the planet! buttons pinned to their messenger bags...

But Drew could hardly complain about them- After all, he was a wimpy vegan kid, albeit without the curly hair and buttons (or messenger bag). So he could relate to the scrawnster hipsters more than he'd like to admit, but it didn't change the fact that he was working for them, serving them their Cabbage Rolls and cheeseless pizza (Which sounded really good to Andrew right about now, he was starving...) While he could be out (in) having fun with a few friends, drinking, doing shit he'd hopefully regret the morning after...

He liked regrets. It meant he had done something worth while, even if it was just worth wishing that he hadn't done it in the first place- it was better than just... forgetting the moment never happened. It was a strange philosophy, but he wanted to do as many regretful things as he could- Hell. He wanted to try everything. Except for maybe the Ham his grandmother cooks every Christmas... But that's a different story. He'd get into a bar fight and beat some kid's ass (Who was he kidding, it was usually the converse) but he couldn't eat some animal. No way, José.

[JESSE ANDERSON]

Jesse glanced absently at his watch, failing to recognize that Donatello’s staff was nearly the twelve, and he was about to miss curfew. Jesse Anderson had other things on his mind. It had been a wild night, meeting up with friends hitting some posh nightclub of which the name escaped him. He could barely remember where the subway stop was, let alone figure out how to get there. His “friends” had slipped away when the police arrived, checking fake I.D.’s and seizing alcohol from dozens of underage drinkers. The hapless Jesse happened to be in the washroom, but had been lucky enough to hear the kafuffle and escape out the window, with nothing but a small tear in the knee of his black jeans. He rolled his shoulders, reaching down to his shoe to check for the little baggie of marijuana entrusted to him earlier, only because his party mates figured he’d forget it was there.

He strolled around the bustling Toronto streets like there was no one there, as though it was only Jesse and the dusky streetlamps and cold concrete. After walking several blocks, he was surprisingly delighted to find he was more lost than ever. Nothing felt quite as good as feeling that you never had to return back to the real world, for the time being at least. He wondered if the others where experiencing the same feeling. They’ve probably gone back home, he mused, then gave an audible gasp up he realized that he should’ve been back at Harbin long ago.

This realization only added to the heightened sense of freedom. Jesse quickly rolled a joint. He hadn’t done it many times before, but he seemed to have a natural talent. Great, he spoke quietly to what he perceived as empty streets. Some people can paint, play guitar. I can roll joints. My life is complete. He held his first drag in for as long as he could, and in no time he was, for lack of a better expression, high as a kite. Jesse wasn’t like many drug users, where everything became sort of cloudy as they were swept under the influence, but in fact, his wits sharpened, and he became much more aware of his surroundings.

The crowds of young adults queuing up for bars startled Jesse, who put out the smouldering end of his joint with the heels of his purple Nike Dunks. He glanced around, hoping for a location offering a little solitude. He hurried inside a small vegan restaurant, and sighed with relief as he plopped into an empty booth. He was completely oblivious to how strange a teenage boy sitting alone in a vegan restaurant could look. A menu found it’s way into his hands, and after several moments, he decided he wanted a chocolate soy milkshake. Looking into his server’s face, he recognized him as the son of one of his teachers at Harbin. “Hey!” Jesse grinned, proud that he’d made the connection. His mind worked double time trying to remember his name”Uh, Archie? Could I have a chocolate soy milkshake, if you please. Good sir.” He figured you could never go wrong tacking some extra politeness at the end of a phrase.

[ANDREW WILLIAM McLEAD.]

Why the restaurant closed at one thirty in the morning was beyond Andrew- he didn't know of... hardly anyone who wanted to go out for some veggie goodness at such an ungodly late hour. He really wouldn't have minded working tonight if he hadn't already had plans- Whenever he was chosen to work the late shift, he'd curl up in the 'party booth' ( The big one in the corner that wrapped around itself and was just the right size and angle for tiny Andrew to lie down on it comfortably) and take a nice, long nap until the end of his shift.

Or, until the unfortunate event occurs and someone actually does walk in expecting service. Like... Right about now.

It was the bell that got him- the nice old fashioned bell-bell, no electronic, magnetic ringer, just a bell hanging above the door, just low enough so that when someone opened the door, the bell was hit, thus sounding it... And waking sleeping beauty (ahem) up. Hoping to god it wasn't his boss (She did that sometimes, came to check to see that he was at least still there), he rolled out from under the table, running a hand through his hair and running the creases out of his shirt- a little too tight for him from nine months of being put through the dryer, the once-bright green faded now.

As luck would have it, it wasn't his boss- just... some kid. He looked a little familiar... Maybe Andrew had served him before. Andrew wordlessly handed him a menu and went back behind the counter where he 'belonged-' this kid didn't exactly look coherent, so there was no need for Andrew to expect a tip at all, meaning there was no need for him to try to put on a smile. Just serve the kid and get him out of here before he got sick or something... Nah, he didn't look that bad. But there was no way he was sober or straight. No, Andrew had enough experience with both of those to know when someone was and someone... wasn't.

After five minutes, Andrew took the short few steps needed to get to the booth he was seated in, pulling out the pencil he had stored behind his ear- he was surprised to find out that even during his little catnap, it had stayed put. "What'll it be?" He asked plainly, an atmosphere of chronic ennui simply radiating from him. He couldn't help it. It was true. The kid looked up to him, and something lit up in his face... “Hey!” He said, as if he knew him. The light still wasn't going off in Andrew's head.

”Uh, Archie? Could I have a chocolate soy milkshake, if you please. Good sir.” Andrew rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to shove his plastic nametag in the kid's face. "Andrew, darling. Though I know point seventy two font is a little hard to read..." he muttered to himself, jotting down his small order as he turned around, made his way to the back where he could get on his milkshake...

Where did he know the kid from? He didn't seem to fit in here, no, that wasn't it... Even when he had given him his damn drink, sitting at the register with his feet on the counter, he was still having a hard time remembering... So there was really no other way to find out. "Hey," He called over to the boy's back, calling for his attention. "Hey, do I... know you from somewhere? Sounds weird, I know. But I feel like I know you... Do you come here often?" He asked, but no, no, that didn't seem right... "Oh! Do you go to Harbin, by chance?" Maybe that was it. He'd gone to countless little banquets, performances and readings with his dad. Not by choice, either. He didn't want anything to do with that place- after all, it didn't want anything to do with him.