A Roll of Quarters Never Hurt Nobody

•••

It began awkwardly.

"I'm not homeless?" Wade frowned as he slowly took the offered scone from the young man.

The stranger's face paled and his expression glazed over as his frazzled college brain scrambled for an appropriate response. 

"I live in the apartment upstairs," Wade added to fill the awkward silence, unintentionally grinding the guy's mortification further. "I'm just waiting for my DoorDash because last time the chick walked off with the goods."

He could see the wheels and cogs turning in the young man's head as he tried to think but Wade was running out of things to say before this turned into a one-sided conversation he didn't really want to have. "You sure you're in any shape to be handing out food so Willy-Nilly?" He asked as he glanced him over, reaching out to peel a piece of masking tape off of the man's chest that had .50 cents written out in sharpie.

[I hate it when people write cents like that, having a point before the cent amount means it's half a dollar, no need to write cents after it. Choose one or the other. Dollars with a zero and decimal or cents, not both please.]

"Oh, well- I just..." the man giggled nervously before he scrubbed at his face, pulling at his skin so that his eyelids pulled away from his eyeballs and threatened to let them pop out of his head for a mere point two seconds.

(That was mentally scaring.)

The fifty-cent sweater was nice. It looked like some kind of wool knit. It was black with white snowflake patterns and looked casual with his well-loved jeans and abused backpack. His hair was brown, fluffy, and clean.

(And his eyes are bloodshot and big...)

His eyes were green....

[concerningly dark bags hang below those dusty green irises]

"I'm sorry.  You just looked like you needed something. Sorry about your DoorDash lady... you don't look homeless, I'm sorry. Did I say that, how did you know I was thinking that?" The young man asked, clearly distraught. "Don't worry about the scone, you can keep it."

(Bitch, as if I would ever consider giving it back.)

(Lick it, claim it as ours.)

[Would you shut up?]

"Your eyes gave it away. Most people look at ugly fucks like me and just assume I'm a ptsd ridden maniac with no home or way of getting a job." He shrugged. "It's not a first."

"That's...." The strange shook their head "again, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Thanks for the snack..." he offered the masking tape back from the end of his finger and looked away, taking a bite from the treat. It was blueberry, sweet and equally boring.

(Scones are like British people.)

Wade perked up a bit when he noticed a car pull up outside the laundry mat, internally thrilled when he saw a full cup carrier in her hand full of his nitros. A treat he'd ordered from the credit he was given by DD after the whole 'they stole all my fucking cat supplies' scandal. He didn't even have to go all Karen on Mr. Jimmy who handled the call.

(But we were ready! Oh we were ready to go Karen HAM on his ass for that weasel stealing Nubbin's supplies!)

He raised his hand the flag the woman down so she wouldn't go all the way up to his door.

"Name?" She asked as she wandered over. She looked dreadfully tired too. So much so that she didn't even glance his face over twice when she noticed the scars.

"Wilson." He said, reaching to take the carrier from her when she nodded.

"Have a nice night you two." She said before turning away.