Post by Dion on Apr 16, 2021 0:39:05 GMT -5
Late nights on a Monday were never the most busiest of hours for the young Saiyan bartender and entrepreneur. And honestly, considering how much energy he needed in order to get through the rest of the working week as is, Dion welcomed such an opportunity to take it relatively easy for a night with open arms. It wasn't to say that he wasn't improving in terms of being to take on the strain of work, he's been trying very hard to cultivate not only a more sociable personality for the embetterment of his business, but also to better himself for his personal relationships as well. With the return of Amara highlighting his social ineptitude to a point where he could not afford to ignore it anymore.
That being said, while he was actively trying and putting himself out there in situations where he was forced to interact with people and thus build his interactional skill, that didn't mean it did not take quite an exhaustive toll on the young man. His anxiety and insecurity oftentimes worked overtime in the midst of such extensive exchanges, and post interaction he was left emotionally, mentally, and physically drained. It pushed him to his breaking point constantly and consistently, and at times it was almost too much to bear.
The only things able to calm him down from such a drowning feeling of emotion were his drink and, or, a good karaoke session.
Tonight was feeling more like a drinking session.
Thankfully, as mentioned before, late night Monday working hours were usually quite empty, and this Monday in particular was the same. In fact, it was in such under activity that he was able to send his kitchen and dining room floor staff home, as the young Saiyan was confident in his ability to handle any late night stragglers that might come in looking for a late night munchy session of sorts. Although, in reality, Dion was just hoping to clear them out so he'd have the place entirely to himself for his aforementioned meeting with his friend Peter the Pint.
Once everyone had cleared out, and Dion made sure Carro had gone to bed, the young man broke out from below the bar counter a portion of a secret reserve of Planet Plant brewed spirits, seeing as the Earth made stuff really didn't do it for his Saiyan levels of alcohol tolerance. He wasted little time, popping the cork off the sizable bottle and diving right into it's liquid contents, taking deep, lengthy swigs as he drowned his sorrows away in his murky refuge.
That was, until, he heard what his drunken mind could still tell were a car's engine pulling into the parking lot outside. Stifling a hiccup, he stopped everything for a few moments, trying to feel out and sense whether or not the energy signature he could feel was heading toward his fine establishment, or was just unable to park anywhere else. And to his slight dismay, the energy level began to beeline it straight for his front door.
Shoving the bottle away down under him, Dion made the effort to make himself look less like a drunken fool, readjusting his tie, out of sorts shirt, and frazzled hairdo just before the newcomer made their entry into his restaurant.
Unable to make out much from the distance the two were separated by, mostly because his vision was utterly deplorable without his glasses, and even worse when under the influence, Dion waved the man, woman, whatever the blob of presence was in front of him, over to the bar, saying in the most sober tone that he could conjure up, "Evenin' mister-! Take a seat, er, over here, I've got a nice spot for ya right in my field of view."
That being said, while he was actively trying and putting himself out there in situations where he was forced to interact with people and thus build his interactional skill, that didn't mean it did not take quite an exhaustive toll on the young man. His anxiety and insecurity oftentimes worked overtime in the midst of such extensive exchanges, and post interaction he was left emotionally, mentally, and physically drained. It pushed him to his breaking point constantly and consistently, and at times it was almost too much to bear.
The only things able to calm him down from such a drowning feeling of emotion were his drink and, or, a good karaoke session.
Tonight was feeling more like a drinking session.
Thankfully, as mentioned before, late night Monday working hours were usually quite empty, and this Monday in particular was the same. In fact, it was in such under activity that he was able to send his kitchen and dining room floor staff home, as the young Saiyan was confident in his ability to handle any late night stragglers that might come in looking for a late night munchy session of sorts. Although, in reality, Dion was just hoping to clear them out so he'd have the place entirely to himself for his aforementioned meeting with his friend Peter the Pint.
Once everyone had cleared out, and Dion made sure Carro had gone to bed, the young man broke out from below the bar counter a portion of a secret reserve of Planet Plant brewed spirits, seeing as the Earth made stuff really didn't do it for his Saiyan levels of alcohol tolerance. He wasted little time, popping the cork off the sizable bottle and diving right into it's liquid contents, taking deep, lengthy swigs as he drowned his sorrows away in his murky refuge.
That was, until, he heard what his drunken mind could still tell were a car's engine pulling into the parking lot outside. Stifling a hiccup, he stopped everything for a few moments, trying to feel out and sense whether or not the energy signature he could feel was heading toward his fine establishment, or was just unable to park anywhere else. And to his slight dismay, the energy level began to beeline it straight for his front door.
Shoving the bottle away down under him, Dion made the effort to make himself look less like a drunken fool, readjusting his tie, out of sorts shirt, and frazzled hairdo just before the newcomer made their entry into his restaurant.
Unable to make out much from the distance the two were separated by, mostly because his vision was utterly deplorable without his glasses, and even worse when under the influence, Dion waved the man, woman, whatever the blob of presence was in front of him, over to the bar, saying in the most sober tone that he could conjure up, "Evenin' mister-! Take a seat, er, over here, I've got a nice spot for ya right in my field of view."