Of Pseudonyms & Suit Ties

Fvest Vrsults

"Yeshh, Volly, I geit eht!" I rush out the door, trying to put my jacket on while dragging my bag with my teeth and my phone carefully smushed between my shoulder and my ear. "I'malfaysate, fvuteht's cuz I giffuh fvest vrsults!"

"You shouldn't talk with your mouthful, Evans, God ... I feel bad for your mother, you're a fucking handful at twenty-four and I can only imagine how you were as a child," he replies, probably rubbing his temples and leaning back in his stupidly expensive office chair. (It's red and it swivels and I want one.)

I spit out the bag strap and hold the phone to my ear while putting on the other sleeve of my jacket, "Gimme a break, ok? I'm practically Listless' savior! Without my smartass, you'd have no readers!"

"Hey watch it, with that smartass, you'll dig your own grave."

I sling my bag over my shoulder and lock the door to my apartment, rolling my eyes, "Oh really? The worst that could happen is me getting fired, but if anyone's getting fired it's gonna be Joanna. It's nepotism what you're doing, everyone knows she sucks absolute ass and I'm not talking about yours."

Wally laughs on the other end and I can officially say that I've successfully gotten myself out of trouble this morning.

Two days in a row, let's gooooo~!

"Watch the inappropriate jokes, hotshot, you're getting cocky."

"Mhmm, so who's making inappropriate jokes now?" I smirk as I take the steps down two by two and start mocking his voice, "Watch yourself or you could be out of a job, Wally."

He scoffs but I can sense that underlying insecurity of his, "Whatever, Evans, just get your scrawny ass to work."

My smile brightens just a bit more.

"Already on my way, boss."

***

The train's rather empty this morning and the people are ordinary. An old lady with a nice purple hat, a mother and her child, a cute couple, some dude with a rad-looking bike ... It's quiet.

And I don't like it very much. It's 12:19 P.M. and the world is still boring?

"Mind if I sit here?"

Lost in my daze, I nod before I look and immediately regret it. It's some goth dude with hair so pastel it's almost white and a spiked choker. He sports significantly light clothing for a late day in January, but who am I to judge?

(I'll never understand high-fashion anyway.)

He takes a seat and I pay him no heed.

"Do you take the train often?" he asks, his voice muffled is through his mask and at first I wasn't even sure he spoke at all. He stares out the windows across from us rather than speaking directly to me, slouching in his seat with his hands in his pockets.

I keep facing the windows too, pulling my bag closer as I try to match his laid-back aura, "Usually. To get to work n' stuff. Uhh, how about you?"

I glance at him and he shrugs, "I don't get out much."

Fighting back the urge to respond, 'So that's why you look like a vampire', I go for something simpler (and much more polite), "Ah, well that's a shame."

"Not really." his voice takes on a playful tone and even though he hasn't moved a single muscle, his whole demeanor seems to change in a split-second. "I already live in Paradise."