after the last call (o)

As usual, a collective sigh was to be heard once he announced today's closing of Sin's End, but it's understandable: the people here always seem to forget time passing was still a thing in the afterlife. Elias, as the bartender though, was relieved that it was over, since it was just another day of dealing with all kinds of drunks and listening to the constant whining of patrons. He tried to appear enduring with all of this, and he was actually bordeline good at working fast paced under stress, but the Punish district did live up to its name when it comes to the majority of jobs available. A few men ordered a few last pick-me-ups for their friends and a few others dragged themselves out painfully, but he knew most of them were going to come back tomorrow, some even since the beginning of opening hours. Because that's just how some people are here.

The barman chose to ignore them. Even though there wasn't such thing as a bouncer here yet despite the desperate need, most nights everyone cleared out in time. Most nights. His hands swift after many years of it being so, he started cleaning the left glasses with the cloth that he didn't remember putting into his pocket but knew was there. A few hours ago when a disgustingly over-intoxicated girl teared the menu into shreds, he thought he'd have to spend at least half an hour to replan the long list of drinks, before realizing that most customers who'd come here would already know what to order. Silently, Elias wiped over the utensils one by one, thinking about what to do after there won't be any annoying people anymore to deal with. It's more of a hard decision than you'd think. Yesterday, and the day before that, and many many other days before the day before that, he'd just go home and crash into his bed despite the crappy material that held it together potentially splitting apart. But today he didn't want to do that, not right away. It's been so many years of not doing anything for him. The guy was truly wasting his death...

The train of thoughts was broken brusquely when the sound of shattered glass reached his ears. Snapped out of all the ponder, he covered his mouth with his hand, the one that didn't knock the item over, and looked around for something to sweep the first cup he's shattered since the beginning of his employment here as bartender. Surely that was not a very good move, especially because he was only a staff and not the one who bought all these things, of course he wasn't, but nobody sober enough to care saw, right? Even the drunks were clearing away. Carefully, he started picking up the pieces.