Styx and Stones - Pool Hall
Devon is currently taking food and beer to a crowded booth, handing out orders to the customers there.
The kitchen door swings open and out comes Grinch, hauling a bucket of water with a mop inside of it. He has his Styx & Stones shirt on, and he looks somewhat grumpy, possibly a sign of clear displease from working through such a lowly and dirty job.
Devon gets it all handed out, dropping off a bottle of ketchup for them to bury their fries in before turning back towards the kitchen. She spots Grinch coming out with the bucket, eyeing him for a moment before asking. "Fresh meat?"
Grinch works on a filthy corner of a floor somewhere, plucking the soaked up mop out before plopping it back in moments later, after he's cleaned up parts of the grime on the floor. A look is given to Devon, and he regards her there briefly, golden eyes staring right at her. Yes, golden eyes- a rarity of itself, or maybe he has eye disease or something. He then bobs his head once. "Yeah. I work the floors. What's up?"
Devon shakes her head, hooking her tray under one arm. "Nothing. Just haven't run into the boss in a while, didn't know we had some." She looks from him to the job he's working on. "What all does he have you doing?"
"Scrubbing the floors," he simply replies. "What does he have you doing?" The same question is tossed over by Grinch, mop still rocking on the floor because the filth there just won't rub away.
Devon watches him work at the one spot with a raised eyebrow. "I'm one of the waitresses, but I'm not Fresh Meat. You get the fun jobs." Her hand lifts and a finger flicks towards the back area. "There's a scrubber mob where they keep the bucket, regular mop isn't good for much more than puke. But don't worry, there's going to be plenty of that too." As some customers get up from another table she nods to them, then heads over to clean up that table so the next can use it.
Grinch nods. "Right on, boss lady. I can /tell/ that I'm getting all the fun over here." Then he's off to fetch a better mop than the shit-soaked, vomit-smelling one he's using. Not to say that the rest aren't no less shitty, as well. After a solid thirty seconds, he returns with a new mop, now going to scrub another part of stained floors. "Been here for three days I think, haven't seen your face in those three days. You got special treatment or something?"
Devon smirks at him, "They're called days off and different shifts." She stacks the glasses on her tray along with the empty plastic baskets they serve the food in. "Don't you worry about me, you've got your own work to look after." She picks it all up and hefts it towards the kitchen.
"Of course. Silly me," he returns the smirk to Devon and resumes his scrubbing. At least this mop is much more effective than the one he had before- still, he has that grumpy, if not perpetual scowl expressed on his face. His eyes venture to the group of bikers in the back for a second while he works, then turns his head to find Devon walking towards the kitchen.
Devon is in the kitchen for a minute, coming back out with more food. She stops to drop it off before heading over to the bar to grab their beer. "So what's your name?" looking over to watch the guy keep scrubbing.
Grinch's attention is on Devon once again when she heads out of the kitchen, maybe a bit too much attention, but he snaps out of it soon enough. "Call me Grinch," he says nonchalantly. Then he regards the woman for a few seconds there, emitting a 'hmph' as he does so. "You don't look half-bad. What's yours?"
Devon arches an eyebrow as she says dryly. "Devon, and thanks." Then she narrows her eyes slightly and shakes her head. "What is it with guys and nicknames? Don't like the one mom gave you? Did she name you Francis?" a bit of false sympathy in her tone.
"More like what's it with gangers and nicknames. Look, I didn't scrub off the prison floor to /earn/ this moniker, alright? Takes more guts to it than that. /Literally/," he replies. Of course, shanking and cold-blooded murder aren't unheard of in many places. Put all the shankers in one place and you'll find them doing it more often than not. And Grinch could be one of them. "Plus it helps keep your identity hidden. Helps a lot if you're through what I've been through. So it just stuck on me now."
Devon hooks her fingers around several bottles, pulling out enough for the guys at the table. She packs them over, popping the tops before handing them out, dropping the caps in her apron. After that there's a lull for her, people are eating and drinking and there isn't anything to clean so she goes to help straighten up behind the bar. "Right." she finally comments. "Guess there's been just one too many Billy Badass through here with a cartoon moniker for me to put much stock in it."
"This place draws trouble in like moths to a flame. And troublemakers tend to have a moniker on their ass, like it or not. That's just how it works." Grinch moves and sweeps from floor to floor, scrubbing off a mixture of dirt, beer, vomit, and all kinds of filth dotting the floors. "You look like you've never been through that typa life, so I get it. Hopefully you'll never will, cause I'm telling you, it fucking /sucks/."
Devon continues tidying up while glancing at the tables to make sure she's not needed. "Depends on what kinda life you're talking about. Been in and out of nut houses and foster homes all my life, when I wasn't living on the street. Just because I haven't been to prison doesn't mean my life was peaches and cream. Just means I didn't get caught."
"I'd trade nut houses and foster homes over a fucking caged warzone anytime, anyday. They usually keep the women holed up in their own prison anyway, so I ain't got much to say on that part." There's still some more floors and corners to clean, but he's close to finishing. Guy could use a break and a beer or two after this. "Prison changes people. For better or worse, and it's usually the shittier version of said fucking people. You don't put a troubled guy in the midst of a racial conflict and then hope that he'll turn goody-good pants after. You just don't."
Devon shakes her head slowly, "How about this? I won't poke at your personal hell if you don't poke at mine. You weren't there, you don't know what I had to deal with." her voice growing cool. Then a table needs beer, so she's off to handle that.
Grinch bobs his head. "That works for me. We've been through our own versions of shitty, and I can respect that." And he's done, for now. The guy plops the stinking mop in the water bucket and hauls it back into the kitchen for a solid two, three minutes, and then he's walking over to the bar for a pint of beer. "Fuck did you do to end up in a damned nut house anyway?" His eyes squint at her while he waits on his stool for the beer.
Devon swaps out the empties for fulls before bringing the glass over to the recycle. "I was a dumb kid. Talked about stuff I didn't understand to people that didn't believe me. They took me to people that believed me less. That's how I ended up in a nuthouse. Folks didn't want to deal with my 'behavior issues." She makes quote fingers for those two words. "Dropped me off, didn't look back."
Grinch snorts, and the current topic seems to draw his attention now. "Stuff you didn't understand? Like what?" His eyes are on Devon, and then Danny when his beer is served and settled right in front of him, a brief 'thanks' being offered to the fella. He chugs a mouthful of liquor as his eyes roam back to the girl. "Look, most prisons have their own 'nut houses' too. I think they used to bring therapists and some smartassed psychologists from outside as well. Was under one's 'observance' for a whole fucking year apparently for... reasons, so I just might see what you're coming with."
Devon pulls the bag out of the bin, setting it to the side before putting a new one in. She smirks, "Yeah, no. One lesson I learned, if any, is to keep some shit to myself. In comparison to most you've had me be positively chatty tonight for some reason." She eyes him warily before folding her arms. "But even I've got a line."
There's a stare at her, a long and empathetic even, as Devon speaks her piece. Grinch flicks his chin and nods in response. "I feel you. No pressure or whatever though, you can keep it to yourself. Just keep in mind that if you ever feel like opening up or need someone to talk to- well I'll try to be open-minded at the least. Fuck, that's the least of 'good' that I can do after serving my time." He smiles, and raises the pint up slightly on her behalf.
Devon nods, quiet for a long moment as she looks at him, then jerks her chin in his direction. "So...the Nazi ink. You really believe in that or did you get it because you needed a crew in prison?"
Grinch drops his head low to regard the ink on him and laughs. "Exactly that," he says when she mentions needing a crew. "Remember when I told you about racial conflicts? Yeah, it's either you pick a side and have the smallest chance to live, or stay being the tough guy lone fucking wolf you are and have none. The boys up in the pen are hardcore white pride, white supremacist, neo-nazis bunch. Racial congregation. They /love/ being white to the core. Me? Well, I just had to fit in."
Devon nods again before saying. "Well, word of wisdom you can take or leave; we're about twenty minutes from the border, you're going to see all kinds of colors coming through those doors. Might ponder getting them covered up with something else, or you could end up with more trouble than you want." She shrugs, glancing up at the clock. A brief pause and she reaches under the counter to grab her own beer, coming around to the front to sit down herself.
"Good idea. That's why I have that thing over there," he jolts a thumb to his bomber jacket, hung up on the clothing rod for employees only. "Helps covering up the unwanted stuff. Gotta use this shirt when I work though, so I should prolly ask if I can wear something over it later on." Grinch turns his head to see if there are any 'colored' people around, and just proceeds to have his way on his beer.
Devon shrugs, taking a drink from her beer after popping the top. "I could draw you something if you want. Tattoos are kind of a thing of mine. Going to the Uni to work on my realism before trying to apprentice somewhere." She and Grinch are sitting at the bar on a break, shooting the shit over a couple of beers.
Hardy heads inside with his large gymbag which he deposits behind the bar grabbing a bottle of water from the icebox "Hello Devon" he offers with a smile and nod as he sits down at the bar looking to Grinch curiously
Grinch swigs a few more on his beer, savoring the taste of cheap liquor in his mouth, before he settles the glass down on the bar. "Not a bad fucking idea. I'll hit you up when my skin starts itching for its dose of fresh ink. How much d'ya usually ask for? Small, mediums, large. Complex, not too complex. The usual stuff."
Devon shakes her head slowly, "I ain't going to charge you for covering up that kinda crap, but I can only draw it for you right now. I don't have the set up to do the actual tattooing. Shit's expensive." She looks up as Hardy comes over, and it seems like she can actually smile without smirking because he gets a small one. "Hey Hardy, how're you doing? You met Grinch yet? He's Fresh Meat."
Hardy smile "We are well thank you" nodding to her looking to Grinch "Hello Grinch we are Hardy" offering a hand to the man smiling to him then Devon "Do you also wish to learn how to create markings ? eh tattoos? We have some and we got encouraged to try creating art of our own" nodding to himself
Grinch growls and ponders her offer for a brief moment, then he shakes his head. "Covering em up's not gonna end any better to be frank. Some are just too big without it having to cost you a lotta ink, and a lotta work beforehand. Plus there's a high chance it's gonna overlap with the /actual/ stuff that I like. I'm talking bout the expensive, high quality, and definitely /not/ prison made ones that I got." He does have a variety of detailed and well-made ink dotting his body. Devon may even notice what appears to be runes, with their ancient and bizarre shapes, apparent alongside the rest of his tattoos. Then he leans in to her and whispers in her ear. "Oh, and just between the two of us? I still have contacts on the streets and back in the penitentiary. /Useful/ contacts. Don't wanna risk losing em just cuz I 'lost heart for the cause' now, do I?" He leans back out and offers her a wink. Then he flicks his chin up for Hardy as well. "What's the movement, big dog?" A nod of his head at Hardy's offer. "I'll keep that in mind, for sure. Thanks."
Devon shrugs at Grinch, "Suit yourself, just hope you have thick skin for folks that are gonna say shit about 'em." She takes a drink of her beer as she looks back at Hardy, her head bobbing in a nod. "Yeah. I've been working towards my own shop, hoping to have one in a year or two. Taking some classes at the Uni, then I need to apprentice for a while before I can expect any business on my own."
Hardy tilts his head "We are not moving at the moment but normally it is forward though we are not a dog" head tilts to the other side as he watches Grinch again. He smiles to Devon "Are classes a must before apprenticeship ? We would not need a shop just learn how to make art Ayaku said any one can learn to make art and since we never created anything we wish to learn" nodding to himself
"I've had cops, wardens, guards breathing down on my neck, blacks and hispanics barking at me for my tats, gang-bangers beating down on me for my skin color. I'm sure I can handle a few rough words here and there." Grinch necks down what's left of his beer if it hasn't yet been guzzled down already. "You opening up your own shop? That's good."
Devon doesn't even bat an eye at Hardy's odd comment before she shakes her head. "Nah, you don't have to go to school, I just wanted to so I could work on a couple of my art styles is all. There's lots of folks that draw without ever setting foot in a classroom. You're fine doing what you want to do." She takes a drink of her beer, working on it a little slower than Grinch. "Yeah, eventually. But it's a ways off still. Trying to put away what money doesn't go to school or instant ramen."
Hardy frowns at Grinch "If any of them come here to bother or to hurt you , we will take them outside" the large bearded man nods to himself. He grins to Devon "List got longer" finding it abit amusing taking a sip from his icecold water. "Oh Devon can you hand us the tube from the side pocket?" if she gets it for him she finds a tube of wasabi if she gives it to him he puts it to his mouth and squeezes getting a big dose of wasabi in his mouth then he offers it with a smile other wise no other reaction "We found an Asian store it had wasabi in it We bought two tubes" he was rather excited to tell them "It is very tastey do you want some?"
A hand is raised at Danny, and then a tap of his finger on the bar. "Some fries and another beer. Yeah, usual shit. Much thanks, Danny." Grinch looks to his side and contemplates over Hardy for a moment, his eyes squinting at the slightest and he just shrugs. "I appreciate it," he says. Then he eyes Devon. "Props to you for giving a fuck to education. Could care less with all that anymore."
Devon gets into Hardy's bag for him, then watches what he does with a funny look on her face. "Wow, ew. No man, you don't eat that straight unless you hate your sinuses." She finishes off her beer and gets to her feet, dropping her bottle into the recycle. Shrugging at Grinch, "Eh, its a means to an end and it'll take less time than trying to work it out on my own. Anyways, time for me to scram. Got classes in like...three hours. Need to catch some z's."
Hardy smiles "My sinuses do not hate us it is very refreshing" looking to Devon "Good Night Devon" Grinch nods his head once. "Take care," is all he's got to say to her, however. And a wave of his hand. When the fries and beer are served, he takes little time to finish them up, 'cause he still has some more work to do before he gets kicked out of his job for lacking. Fresh meat stuff- first to arrive, and last to leave. "Two, three days ago, I think?," he says to Hardy. "Twas good talkin to ya, big boy, but I got some more work to do. These jerkbags just keep coming in and dirtying up my floor."
