The Evening Street : RADIODUST

6: Rubber Boots - Gray

"Thanks bae," Velvet said. She groaned, "Seriously? Did you really have to make out? Yuck."

👁️

After an eventful day at work, Blitzo was exhausted. There was so much still left to do— to finish. Blitzo needed to save Loona, but there was so damn little time...

Blitzo stretched his legs as he left the metro station. People bustled and moved around him, trying to get home. Blitzo's mind was still thinking about his job.

Once Blitzo realized and confirmed the man was another viewer of the broadway musical, Blitzo requested permission for tickets and identification. The theare immediately complied. Having someone who died on their premises from reasons other than a heart attack of old age, was bad buisness. This made both Blitzo and Moxxie happy, but Blitzo's heart visibly shrank three times its size when he saw just how many tickets alongside ID's there were.

Seven hundred seats with one ID covering groups ranging from eight to one person, Blitzo was fucked.

Moxxie said the guy looked like the type to be going out with friends, while Blitzo's brain went on overdrive. They were going to find this man no matter if was in a group or not. In the end, all Blitzo cared about was time and Blitzo knew that if they were going to find this guy, it was going to take a god-fucking-awful amount of hours.

For the rest of the day, Moxie and Blitzo sorted through at least two-hundred and seventy one combined online profiles based on people's ID's, trying to figure out who the hell this man was.

Blitzo returned back to the apartment building, sweat dripping off his forehead. The summer heat was hell, and wearing his uniform all day in that office did not help. God, even his awful crew-cut that made him look like a potato did not fight against the hot and humid burning inferno.

Luckily, Blitzo was not allowed to wear a uniform out of duty, meaning his t-shirt that he wore was drenched in sweat. He opened the two transparent doors and felt the cool rush of aircontioning.

"Home sweet home," Blitzo exhaled. He walked past the stranger with the doorman, chatting lively, something about directions and Broadway shows. Blitzo halted. Broadway shows, Blitzo's thoughts repeated. He took a few steps back and stared at the stranger.

There was a man holding groceries with white gloves. White gloves, those were the exact same gloves that Blitzo saw in the footage.

The man had dark skin, dressed nicely, and wore those signature white gloves. His build was average and maybe strong, but looks do not lie. The man was the same man from the footage but in high resolution.

What are the fucking chances? Blitzo thought. The man turned around, giving a small wave to the doorman.

"Hello there buddy, are you new here?" Blitzo asked. The man glanced at Blitzo. A customer's smile similar to Rosie's was super glued onto his face.

"Good afternoon. I have recently moved in. My name is Alastor, what is yours, my fellow gentleman?" The man said. The edges of his eyes crinkled. His accent was surprisingly New Yorker compared to what Blitzo imagined.

Blitzo glanced at the groceries the man carried, two bags filled to the brim with vegetables. That is honestly way too much. Who the hell ate that green? Was Blitzo talking to a rabbit?

Hopefully he wasn't one of those extreme vegetarian or vegan people. Blitzo did not know the difference between the two.

"I'm Blitzo, the 'o' is silent...That looks like a fucking lot, do you need help?" Blitzo said.