Eleven || Proposition for You

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PROPOSITION FOR YOU 

TALON OWNS WASTELAND, BUT NOBODY LIKES HIM

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TALON OWNS WASTELAND, BUT NOBODY LIKES HIM. Not the staff. Not the customers. Not even me, even though I really do try. But he never pays us on time, hires and fires people without on a whim, and on the days that he actually shows up, he always ends up getting into a fight with somebody. 

Our staff meetings take place on the last Wednesday of every month. As always, I hassle Talon to show up. As always, he doesn't.

"...took forever to make," Zach and Cody, twins in high school and regulars of the bar, point out sections of their science fair project. "But it actually works. All you need is some milk, ice, and a couple of fruits." 

"If the ice cream tastes good, you can bribe the judges with it," I joke. "Maybe after you're done with it, you can donate it to me." 

"Yeah, and you can share it with the rest of  the bar," Zach says. "For a fee, of course." 

"Of course. But you two eat free since -" 

"Winnuh-fred!" A door slams open. 

I sigh. Almost everybody in the diner either flinches or rolls their eyes at the sound of Talon's voice. I look over my shoulder to see him stride in from the kitchen door, baggy pants and chopped hair. He takes a puff of his Green cigarette and waves me over. 

"Pretend like you don't see him," Cody mutters. The supers playing cards on the next table mummer their agreements. 

"Someone has to," I pat him on the shoulder and walk away. 

I navigate through the circular tables, carrying a tray full of drained mugs and empty plates. A thud comes from the second floor, followed by the sound of glass shattering. Some supers must have gotten into a fight again. Talon scowls at the ceiling. Nobody else pays any attention. 

"Hi Talon," I walk behind the bartop. 

"I thought I paid you to serve customers, not chat with them." He says and I notice that he has a new gold tooth. His skin is sickly, like the blue and white glow of a corpse. "But I'll let you go, especially since it seems like I'm the only one who showed up for the meeting." 

"The meeting took place nine hours ago, Talon," I say. 

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"They always take place at seven in the morning." 

"How was I supposed know that," He nudges me on my shoulder. "Don't look at me like that. I know that prissy expression. You're probably going to scold me for not showing up on time, even though you're the one who forgot to remind me. Always pushing me under the bus and blaming me for getting run over." 

The back of my neck heats up. 

Talon blows out a stream of lemon-scented smoke through his chapped lips, "Maybe it's hard to process in the happy world of Winifred-Land, but sometimes people are too busy to check every email. Am I supposed to sort through every little thing you message me with? Next time, if you actually want me to show up, put it on my planner." 

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