[R] Gotta Get

✗ Cici wasn't too surprised when the other woke with a growl, though he hadn't prepared for a hand to move so fast and seize his wrist. As it was twisted into an uncomfortable position he gave a low hiss out of his teeth, the sound faint but making his distaste clear. He was no stranger to holds like this but it didn't make them any better to deal with. He gave a scowl, permanent on his lips even as his wrist was dropped and the other apologized. Pulling his arm back to himself he rubbed at his wrist a moment.

This was one of the shitty parts of this job, dealing with people like this. He didn't want to be their damn alarm clock, he didn't want to be that guy tossing them out. As if he really could. Killed before he'd hit a good growth spurt the teen was just at 5'3" and weighing next to nothing. Not exactly the intimidating or strong sort. But his job was his job and he couldn't clean the room with this prick hanging.

Not bothering to respond he stepped away to give the guy room to stand up. Pushing a piece of brown bangs from his face he let his gaze drift over the room, nose wrinkled to see all the work he'd have to do. If the other rooms were just as bad he'd have to skip his lunch break. Again. In frustration he chewed more violently at his gum, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He needed to get this guy out before he could get started though. No way in hell he was going to babysit while cleaning.

At the question he glanced over, seeing the annoyed scowl. He returned it with one of his own, brows furrowed. Turning he faced the man, head cocked back to meet his gaze. It's noon, bro. And fucking no. he replied flatly. He knew he should watch his tongue when speaking to a guy this big but he was just too annoyed to care right now. And besides if there was an issue, he could get some of the others to help him deal with it.

Pulling a hand out of his pocket he jabbed his thumb in the direction of the door, blowing a bubble with the gum. Popping it he spoke again. The club is closed for cleaning buddy, you gotta get. Can't fuckin' clean a room with your ass in it motherfucker. Okay admittedly the last word was said mockingly but he didn't have the patience for this. The longer he was kept from cleaning then the more behind he'd get.

✗ Now this, this Cici saw coming. He'd seen it happen a million times over in his living life. He got a bit of lip and it lit a fire, always, in the other person. Just like his mother's fucking boyfriend, this man stepped toward him and spoke hatefully. Cici's face steeled and he tightened his jaw with the gum between his teeth, readying for any hit he might receive. His hands were back in his pockets again, curled tightly in fists. Briefly he thought about the knife he had tucked in his back pocket but the thought was quickly pushed aside. It'd do him no good to get into it with a guy, let alone at his place of employment.

As his overalls were seized and he was lifted off his feet he stiffened his entire body, staring at the other with that stone-stead expression. Even as the man went on about owning the club, Cici didn't let the surprise fill his face. Shock was always weak to show, tended to give guys like this a sense of pleasure. He could remember the satisfied smirks of that jackass during his childhood, giddy to see Cici's face pale or fill with horror. He couldn't let that happen here. Even as the bitterness and hate churned in his stomach he didn't let it show.

Dropped he fixed his overalls, stepping away from the other with a huff. The other earbud was pulled out of his ear, the chord looped around his neck and tucked beneath the bandana he had tied there. He scowled at the order to get the other some breakfast, smacking on his gum to keep himself from retorting. If this guy was the owner of the club he didn't want to piss him off anymore than he already had. He couldn't afford to be fired or be killed.

Yeah, whatever, he said in a bitter voice and headed for the door. Even though he was finding himself hating this guy he wasn't going to be an idiot and say no. Stomping out of the room he quickly exited the club, heading for the nearest place with food.

It would be about fifteen minutes later he'd return, storming into the private room and tossing a bag of donuts at the other. The scowl on his face was dark, a cold anger in it. It was bitter irony that he'd be spending his own money on donuts for this fuckward. The very sort of food he'd tried to get money for in life and died over, was sent here for. There's your fucking breakfast, he said in a mutter before turning with the intention of leaving. He'd just clean another one of the rooms until this guy left, like hell he was hanging around in here with this asshole.

✗ Cici had noted how much more chipper the guy looked and the other person now in the room. Ugh they looked right at home. He'd never get this room cleaned. Then he'd have hell to pay for it when it came time to open up the club doors. Mother fuckers. When told to wait he held back a sigh, focusing instead on the gum in his mouth. It had lost its favor by now but he could hardly care. It was still chewable. Turning slightly he hunched his shoulders, staring up at the approaching man. Something for his troubles? He wanted to give a snort in disbelief but help back.

Wait, the dick was actually giving him money? He stared warily at the cash that was put in his hand. It made him sick to see someone with such a huge wad of cash, handing out bills like it was nothing. While he himself was having to save every penny he could. He greatly wanted to just toss this cash back, his bitterness and pride screaming at him too. But he pocketed it, stuffing it in his back pocket. The man did owe him for the donuts anyways. That was justification enough.

Yeah fine, chill. No they weren't chill. Far from it. Cici would never be chill with a guy like him. Sure the guy was smiling right now, sure he was trying to seem nice and relaxed. But Cici knew the moment someone would cross him the smile would probably drop. If by instinct he would grab a wrist and jerk it like he did, then the teen was pretty sure he'd do a lot worse if really angry. Just like every fucking person who had crowded his grandfather's house. You don't be chill with the likes of them.

But not playing along would probably piss the guy off. He just needed to play nice for the moment and then he'd probably not see the man ever again. Or if he did, he'd at least recognize him from afar and be able to get the hell away. He eyed the hand that was offered to him, seeming untrusting of it. But finally he took it in his own and shook. It wasn't the most powerful of shakes but he didn't wuss it either, blowing a bubble with his gum to hide the scowl.

He dropped the hand quick enough, turning his head away as the bubble gave a loud 'pop' and deflated. I need to get back to cleaning, bro. Don't really feel like having one of your buddies bitch at me when this shit isn't sparkling clean.

✗ Cici, such a frail nice looking kid, stuck out like a sore thumb in Punish. He knew this. It caused him to receive odd or confused stares at times but he always told himself it wouldn't be for long. Eventually he would have enough money to buy his way into Asphodel and he'd be out of here. No more strange looks, no more working at a disgusting establishment like this, no more… no more any of that! For now he just had to deal. And despite what curiosity others might have about him he wouldn't tell his story. He knew that man was around here somewhere. If he started talking, it'd only draw attention.

He eyed the darker male as, once more, the fellow was trying to be friendly. Friend? Yeah right. He eyed the other working before giving a small exhale through his nostrils. The club was definitely not going to be ready in time for tonight if two of them weren't working. But… why did he care? If he could get a day to just relax should he decline it? It was by invite of the owner of the club so he couldn't be fired for it. And it'd be paid for still right? Even if it wasn't, the man had 'tipped' him enough to make up for the day and then some.

He was quiet a moment, brows furrowed. His arms crossed over his chest and he contemplated the options. … Fine, he mumbled and dropped his arms to his sides. He couldn't refuse an offer to rest for a day, not with how tired he was. Sighing he trudged toward the gestured couch, pushing a thin hand through the messy mohawk and tussling the locks even more. And don't call me that, referring to the 'short stuff' and 'little man' names, I died before I hit my growth spurt, 'kay? Forever a shrimp, god how he hated it. Why couldn't he have been killed like, after he became a little more manly looking?

Heavily he sat down on the couch, scooting to the further corner and to the edge of the seat, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in palms. He closed his eyes, lips in a soft pout. Sitting down for even a moment reminded him just how weary he was. Slowly he slid his head down at an angle, cheek against one of his palms. It's Cici, he said after a moment of silence, realizing he had given the guy nothing better to call him by. He didn't like sharing his name but by how friendly the guy was trying to be he'd no doubt ask at some point. And as him employer, it wouldn't take much for him to learn it one way or another.

✗ As the bag of donuts was tossed his way Cic didn't pay it any attention. He honestly couldn't eat donuts ever again after his death. The thought of one just made him sick to his stomach and the bile of bitterness rear its ugly head. It'd been bad enough having to go into a donut shop to buy Oz some but he'd been prioritizing when he did. Closest place for food meant the quicker he'd get back. So here the bag of donuts sat, now ignored on the couch beside the teen.

Pleasure to meet you too Oz, Cici mumbled faintly in response, still resting against his palm with his eyes closed. It really wasn't a pleasure to meet the guy but whatever, play nice Cici. And he really doubted it was much of a genuine pleasure for the other either. The brown-eyed boy was just a nobody, a janitor.

As a silence settled over the room Cici found himself relaxing more, sleepiness nibbling on his mind Giving a slow exhale of breath he slumped more into his arm, the pout on his lips facing into an expressionless state. He was able to easily ignore the stench of smoke, exposed to it all his mortal life. The smell of cigarettes and weed had been so deeply ingrained into everything that it always smelled like someone had lit up. Honestly he felt like he was back in that house again, sitting alone in his room enjoying the sweet silence of no one home. Those brief moments of relaxation and gratitude he had so rarely experienced after the death of his grandfather. For a fleeting moment there would be no one in the house to abuse him, to taunt him, to mock him. No disappointment in watching his mother snort cocaine, no anger in seeing these men make themselves at home. Just himself, in his room, with silence as company.

So deeply had he slipped into this memory he began to drift off into sleep. It wasn't until Oz spoke up that he was dragged back to reality. With a start instinctively he leapt up from the couch, stiff and almost nervous. Arms were raised up in readiness to protect his face and his throat. So fluidly had he made these motions it seemed as if it were second nature to him, a reaction he had made many times before.

But after a moment he realized where he was and who he was with. He wasn't back in that house again, there wasn't someone barging in to use him as their whipping boy. He briefly gave a look of shame, forcing himself to flop back down onto the couch, focusing in on what Oz had said. He didn't look over at the man, eyes focused on a tear in his overalls near the knee. Nine months. he replied faintly, hand now up to scrub at his face and attempt to push away the sleepiness. He didn't bother to respond to the talk of being kings of the world, endless pleasures, no worries. As if. This was just as bad as mortal life was, only difference being he was stuck forever as a teenager.

He felt like Oz was mocking him now, a small scowl tearing at the corners of his lips. Right joys, he said perhaps a little sharply. It was probably pretty damn obvious the kid had never had any "joys" in the mortal realm, why else would he be a teenager and in the Punish district working as a janitor? Drawing his legs up he rested into the back of the couch, pushing the bag of donuts further away with his converse before tucking it back to his body. It's all the same to me. He said this in a far softer voice, almost under his breath. Whether he was there or here, it all was the god damn same to him. Awful.

✗ Cici loathed the fact he'd just shown weakness in front of the man. Any simple action could say a thousand words and he had no doubt a thousand had just been said about himself. He was jumpy, he was paranoid, he was untrusting. All weaknesses in this district. He could just damn himself for drifting off like that, being surprised. He would be absolutely sick to his stomach if it came back to bite him in the ass. After all the determination he had had earlier when Oz threatened him. Fuck.

Pressing his cheek into the back cushion of the couch he finally looked over at Oz, seeing the man leaned forward and inquiring him. He didn't like how interested this man seemed to be in him, asking all these questions. He didn't want anyone to be interested in him in any way, trying hard to just blend into the backdrop most often. He, after all, had someone out there probably pissed off at him and wanting revenge. And he wasn't looking to make any new enemies either. Friends, too. At least not here in Punish.

Was there anything that Oz could do to make his stay in Punish more enjoyable? Fucking hell no. There was nothing this man could do, or that Cici wanted him to do. He knew how people like that worked. They always wanted something in return. Charity was just a laugh. No doubt this man would call for something in return. Money, labor, sex, the possibilities were endless. Cici wouldn't fall for a trap like that. He learned his lesson when he was younger.

Nothin'. He said this flatly, eyes turning away. He was being defensive, he was hiding something. There was something he wanted, someone Oz could possibly do. But the boy would never tell. Never in his afterlife would he take money from a thug like Oz, even if it was to buy his way into Asphodel. A paycheck was one thing, he earned that. He had already paid his end of the deal by labor. But something like this? No.

Shifting to pull an empty gum wrapped from one of the numerous pockets on his overalls he pulled the gob of gum from his mouth and pressed it into it, folding the thin paper around it and tucking it in his pocket to throw away later. The gum had started to become stringy and sour, disgusting really. In the chewing gum's stead he produced a sucker. He always had something to chew or suck on, carrying around most often gum and candy or possibly toothpicks. It was, he supposed, a bit of an oral fixation. It kept him from clenching his jaw or grinding his teeth when his worry or anger was particularly horrid.

Pulling the cover off the pop he tucked it back into a pocket, sliding the piece of candy past his lips. He was greeted by the sharp taste of cherry. Wiggling down further he shifted more to prop his back on the armrest, arms folded over his chest with a finger and thumb of a hand holding onto the white paper stick. A tuft of brown hair had fallen down over his face, cutting up sight of his eyes.

Sorry but there isn't anything you can do to make this place enjoyable… He added this in a softer voice, feeling a little more in control of himself with something more solid in his mouth than gum. Almost dejectedly he stared at his ratty shoes, thinking.