Chapter 2

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AN: I'm sorry this update has taken me so long, I genuinely feel really bad. I hit a solid mofo of a writer's block a couple of weeks ago and it's been absolute hell to get past it. Basically, this chapter is more or less just a look into life at the fire station and an attempt to establish the main characters. There will probably be a few more of these sort of chapters before we can get to the really good part *rubs hands together*. I hope you enjoy <3 (and I really hope I get to see a few of you at the London tour stop this Friday!)

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Making his way out from his room toward the kitchen, Troye ran his hand through his still slightly damp curls. He'd just finished a long shower after his workout and was still contemplating what had happened earlier; what Tyler had said and his swift departure afterward had left Troye confused. So he didn't want to make friends? Troye supposed that was fair enough, but did Tyler really have to be so rude about it? And what was he so angry about anyway? Troye couldn't make sense of it and he tried not to bristle, even if he felt a bit stung. He just hoped that he'd have better luck with the other guys on his watch. Surely not all of them would be assholes, right?

He rounded the corner of the kitchen from the hallway, seeing the room awash in bright daylight that poured in through the windows. Across the end of the room stood the long dinner table, big enough to seat the whole company at once and to his left, the breakfast bar hid portions of the cooking area. The large kitchen came in handy for cooking meals for big groups like them, yet Troye guessed that take-out was a common thing around here judging by the jumble of folded paper menus stuck to the fridge and freezer by colorful magnets.

Troye could see some of his new colleagues sitting on the porch outside, their backs against the windows and chatting amongst themselves while soaking up the early midday sun. He saw the back of Hannah's head through the window and chewed his lip in thought. Maybe he could ask Hannah about Tyler's behavior; it didn't seem like your regular 'mess with the newbie'-thing to do. He made his way across the empty kitchen and stepped out through the open porch door, squinting as the bright light hit his retinas.

"Troye!" Hannah said as she looked up at him while shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, holding a cup of coffee in the other. "Have a good workout?"

"Yeah, it was fine," Troye replied and nodded at the others sitting in the porch chairs against the wall as they greeted him. "I was just wondering if you could show me around the trucks a bit?"

"Of course!" Hannah lifted quickly out of her chair and led the way back inside the kitchen. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to know more about?" she asked while putting her cup in the sink, turning to look at Troye.

"Yes, but it's better if I show you out there, okay?" Troye smiled gently as they began to make their way out to the engine hall. Hannah made polite small talk on the short way there, talking about the bar the company usually met up in after work.

"It might seem weird that we choose to hang out even outside of work when we're together an entire day, but it's just something we do, you know? As a way to celebrate the end of the shift, in a way. That we'll live to see another. You'll join us tomorrow, right?"

"Uhm, I don't know. We'll see," Troye shrugged as they walked through the changing hall where all their safety gear was placed in open lockers. Neat rows of boots with the pants and suspenders already attached, ready to just step into, were lined up in front of each locker. The air was permeated with the sharp, almost acid smell of smoke was saturated into the fabric of the protective clothing over multiple encounters with fire. Many of the jackets that hung in the lockers were smudged with soot, turning them the color of wet sand rather than the lighter beige they'd once been. Little dents and scratches where the color had been scraped off the helmets told stories of close contact with things that would probably have knocked the wearer out, or worse, had the helmet not been there.

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