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your father owns the local bar. for a little bit of pocket money, you often work behind the bar– serving drinks to rowdy men who just want to peer down your t-shirt. though, a certain man always catches your eye.
he looks like trouble, and he acts like it too. but, one night he's the only person remaining and you suddenly discover the real him.
" i have to lock up soon, so... last orders "
norman looks up at you, a grin playing about his lips, " are you always so formal? "
" i like to keep my jobs as long as i can "
" fair enough " he says, laughing a little and taking a sip of his drink, " come sit "
he tapped the bar stool next to him, before you spoke, " i really ca– "
" sit. "
and so you did. you spoke for hours and hours. your father would've killed you if you knew, but you were enjoying yourself too much to care. he was funny, polite, charismatic. you felt yourself swooning a little. as you closed up, he shoved his hands in his coat pocket to stay warm from the biting 2am weather.
