Nolan, seemingly confused by such a note, watched as Yael gave a small wave specifically to him, shown by the way he was looking into his eyes, walking away as he did so. Nolan looked down at the card, quickly tucking it away into his pocket. He walked out of the building, making his way to his home as he grew more curious, even more questions swirling in his mind. His house was a bit far away, so he had walked quite a while to get there from in the middle of nowhere street.
He got there around after half an hour, stepping in and shutting his door behind him, locking it after. He quickly took out his phone, along with the piece of paper. He opened the crumbled paper that had been tucked into his pocket, typing in the numbers to save it. Beep, beep, beep, and saved, name being "The singer guy". He DM'd him, this wasnt the confrontation he had planned, but it'd work anyways.
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Nolan sighed in annoyance, "Damn drunkard. I had more to say."
He closed his phone and placed it on his desk, plummeting down on his bed after. Staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the day so far, he was realizing how shitty of a day it was. He messed up at the mission, got hit on by some singer, and now the person he wanted to confront passed out like the drunkard they are. He positioned his pillow under his head, laying on the blanket as he laid on his side. His tail swayed and landed on the side of his stomach, hanging down. And so, he drifted off to sleep.
Meanwhile, Yael, he had woken up. He let out a tired hum as he groggily woke up, observing his surroundings. Where...? He thought to himself, before remembering that he went out with his crew to drink. He looked at his manager next to him, just to see him death staring into his soul. A shiver went down his spine, wondering what he did wrong this time.
"Manager?" he called out.
"Yes? You fell asleep while talking to someone. I had to text them *twice* for your sake, you hear?" his manager answered in a stern tone, clearly not happy. Yael nodded sheepishly, giving pleading eyes to his manager.
"I see.. I'm sorry for the trouble, then, manager... Won't happen again, i promise!" His manager, in response, rolled his eyes as he smirked at Yael, ruffling his hair.
"You're such a lightweight. Can't even hold 3 shots of classic beer." Both chuckled playfully, Yael leaning back on his seat as he looked up at the ceiling. The chatter of the manager and his crew filled the air, as Yael stayed quiet. He glanced at the table for a bit, observing the beer bottles and empty shot glasses, then his gaze trailed on to his manager, his crew. He smiled to himself, before joining in the chatter himself, laughter and chatter filling up the bar...
