Stuck in a rut

[TenderFoot]

“Another fuckin’ day at this hell hole…” Scuttle muttered while reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver key. He jammed it into the keyhole of the door and turned it rather carelessly; not really giving a shit as he kicked open the now unlocked front doors of J.J. Scoops. One glance at the wall clock informed Scuttle that it was 1:03 and he was late…by about two hours.

The hunter trudged across the dark store after shoving the store key back into his pocket. He flipped on the light switch and immediately the bright and florescent panels on the ceiling washed out the room. Scuttle’s lip curled slightly at the sudden brightness; the white walls and ceiling reminding him of a hospital. Which was something he hated. Putting his hatred for all things in the world aside, he continued about the daily routine of opening the store; turning on the register, putting away all the utensils and cups from the dishwasher, turning on the radio which played music for customers to enjoy(fuck those customers), and cleaning up the mess he was too lazy to deal with last night before closing.

Working in an ice cream store isn’t as awesome as one might originally believe. Especially if you were practically the only employee, which is the only reason why Scuttle was appointed manager. God knows that any other person in the world would be a better employee than the stingy hunter. And don’t you start thinking that being manager is fun either. You still get paid shit minimum wage, only you’re responsible for more crap and expected to actually take your job as a fucking ice cream scooper seriously. Scuttle grabbed a wet rag from the sink and slapped it on the counter making dirty water splatter everywhere. His claws gripped into the cloth and he scrubbed angrily at sticky dried ice cream that cemented itself to the surface. Britney Spears started playing in the background and already he knew it was going to be a shitty day.

[StaciaStarburst]

Snaggle approached her storefront, maneuvering around shelves and displays to place a flyer on the window. She proceeded to the doors, flipping a smaller sign, hanging idly, over to read 'Away. Be back in a little while.' Clasping the handle, she pulled it toward her before stepping out through the clear and metallic entrance/exit. Turning back to the door, she locked it quickly with the key around her neck. Returning her attention to the street, her optics flicked down the street left and right, reading store signs.

After reading all signs visible, her arms reached upward over her head in a lazy stretch, a yawn having been omitted. Sliding her tongue over her teeth within her mouth, her hand clenched her stomach lightly. She wanted something sweet today. Maybe I will check out J.J. Scoops, it sure was talked about in a nice manner. Her mind battled itself for a moment before sticking with the idea of sweets, she deserved a treat after having trained so much the previous day.

Her feet carried her off the sidewalk and across the street. She paused for a moment, looking up at the large sign before gripping the door's handle and pushing it forward. One foot after the other, she entered the doorway, with a chiming bell ringing in her ears irritably. Looking up, she spotted the noise-maker and let the door fall closed. Her head shifted slightly, scanning the quaint ice cream shop. An odd odor filled her nostrils, that of maybe faint mildew. Ignoring it, she stepped toward the ice cream display.

"Hello..." Her speech paused for a small second before continuing due to an odd flavor catching her eye. "I heard this place has the best ice cream. Is there anything you would recommend?" Her glance only flickered to the male at the counter for a moment before returning to the display case in bewilderment. Judging by her physique, she didn't seem like the female to eat or indulge in sweets too often, even if she usually did. Her attention refocused on the male at the counter, a pleasant smile on her face as usual, but not that of an overly happy persona.

[TenderFoot]

By this time of the day, Scuttle had given up on attempting to give a shit about his job and abandoned cleaning the counters. He was leaning on the back counter, you know, the place where all the appliances necessary for optimum ice cream distribution were strewn about. Plus a sink, can’t forget about that stupid thing.

The hunter was currently playing on his phone when the front door was opened and that stupid cheerful little bell rung throughout the store. Yeah, he wasn’t retarded; he could tell if someone fucking walked into the god damn store without an annoying as fuck bell announcing it to the entire world. Why the fuck did he need a bell like some stupid goat or cow to warn him that YES, THERE IS INDEED A PERSON IN THE STORE NOW. YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON YOU KNOWING THAT YES, THERE IS INDEED…A PERSON IN THE STORE. Scuttle’s already in place frown deepened some more thinking about this. He didn’t even catch what the customer was even babbling on about, but who cares about that, really. Scuttle vaguely guessed that his hatred for the bell existed because once he heard it, it meant that he was actually going to have to start working. FFF, god dammit.

Without the stupid bell, Scuttle could tell that the customer was a hunter and female from her scent. Take that stupid bell, why would they need you when Scuttle just has his pristinely trained nose and ears. Stupid fuck bossman… He figured out the basic deets of the chick without even looking up from his phone which was apparently oh so amazing. He wasn’t even texting anyone. Scuttle didn’t have any friends, but he was a big enough asshole to want to look obviously busy so he would have to interact with customers as little as possible. But yeah, since she was a hunter Scuttle didn’t feel the need to instantly kick her out of the store and let her…look around or whatever the fuck she was doing.

Scuttle huffed loudly so it would be clear that he was already in an irritated mood. “I don’t know lady; this is an ice cream store. How about some, FFF-“ he jammed a couple buttons angrily into his phone, “god damn ice cream!” This whole time he didn’t tear his attention from his phone, not even once. Talk about amazing customer service.

[StaciaStarburst]

Her usual smile stayed in place, though it had faltered slightly with his inattentive demeanor. She observed that his social behavior was quite opposite of her own when dealing with customers. Her attention turned back to the display, its variety being the most unique she had ever seen. Some of the flavors catered more to the savage buried deeper and hidden away, like Knaw had proclaimed. Their labels were scribbled in, clearly because they don't come in tubs or with printed name cards. The one that caught her eye was one with a label stating that the ice cream was made from leftover scraps from a hunt. Others were nothing out of the ordinary, strawberry, vanilla, chocolate, butter pecan, and other normal flavors you might see at a Baskin Robin's. A couple were just odd, but still she didn't seem to have a problem with it.

A very faint snicker dripped from her lips as the smile returned to its position in her expression. "Well I guess you'd have to be right about that." Mentally, she agreed; how clever actually, despite his seemingly thick distaste for his job. "Well I won't keep you busy long; could I get a scoop of butter pecan in a small cup?" The way he seemed to handle his customers was not her preferred way, but a way none the less. Twisting slightly, her arm maneuvered behind her to retrieve her small custom embroidered wallet. The cash in there was definitely nicer than most 18 year old teens, she did, after all, own a business. "How much will that be, sir?"

Waiting for his response and ice cream, her brow furrowed, seeing if there were any bills smaller than a twenty in her wallet, there was a five and ten. This should cover the ice cream and tip.

[TenderFoot]

“FFFF….” Scuttle sighed very loudly again to illustrate how much he hated this job. The hunter pushed himself off the back counter he was leaning on and shoved his phone into his pocket. Still barely regarding his customer, he continued towards the ice cream display after grabbing a small Styrofoam cup off the shelf. He flipped up the glass display cover and grabbed the ice cream scooper that was sitting nearby in a small bucket of warm water. What did she say she wanted again? Scuttle paused and stared at the rows of different colored ice cream tubs. Maybe if he stared blankly at them long enough he would remember. …Oh yeah! Butter pecan. The 22-year old wrinkled his nose as he he plunged the scooper into the ice cream; there were so many flavors that sometimes he forgot which ones they actually had. Butter pecan wasn’t exactly their most popular flavor. Nah, thanks to that annoying little shit of a younger brother J.J. Scoops always found themselves running low on strawberry.

After putting two scoops of the ice cream in the bowl, he tossed the scooper back into the bucket and slammed the display cover down again. Grumbling, he plucked a thin plastic spoon from the utensil holder on the counter and stabbed it into dessert. He practically tossed it down on the counter in front of the customer, not really caring for its fate when it spun on the bottom ridges of the bowl slightly. For the first time he actually looked up at who he was serving. Average sized hunter chick, short black hair (if Knaw unhooded wasn’t such a rare sight for him, he would have instantly thought of him), small tits (wait, did she even have any?), and she was clad in a obnoxious purple hoodie. He let out a brief snort; you could almost call it a scoff. Then placed his hands on the counter, leaning forward dauntingly as his stare bore into her cranium. “One-fifty,” He glanced her up and down before adding, “…Priiincesssss.” The word came out as a hiss, slowly letting a smirk curl onto his unshaven face.

[StaciaStarburst]

Her smile went from the usual to delighted as she watched him scoop her ice cream. Watching him toss it carelessly and retort with the amount it cost she just went about casually. Laying down a five dollar bill, she slid it toward him on the counter. Curling her digits around the ice-cold cup, she plucked it from the counter with a bit of enthusiasm. "The change is for your tip jar. Who'd have thought I'd come in and be complimented." Her comment didn't drip with any sort of happiness or giddy excitement. It held a bit of sarcasm, actually. She could tell that his tone was not one to be associated with any merriment of the sort. It was only natural to retort in a similar manner. This made it clear she wasn't just some ditz thinking he had actually complimented her.

Princess. She repeated it a few times in her head. Had she liked the way that sounded, or did it grate on her nerves? Did it really flatter her or disgust her? She shrugged it off her mental agenda and turned on her heel. "Thanks for the ice cream, sir." With that, her steps padded lightly on the tiles beneath her converse. The was a bit of strut in her step, though faint. She had something sweet, not really sure anything could sour the moment.

[TenderFoot]

Tip jar? Since when the fuck did I have a tip jar? Scuttle absently looked around the register area for such a thing. Yeah, no such thing had ever existed within twenty feet of Scuttle. Just thinking of tipping the hunter for his services as a food server shouldn’t even be considered a logical thought. And Scuttle knew this, which is why he looked at the girl like she just sprouted a second head. What the fuuuuckk…? He just watched her leave the money on the counter, turn around, and then leave. It wasn’t until after the door closed that he sighed and put his hand over the five dollar bill. He slid it off the counter and crumpled it in his hand while beginning to punch numbers into the cash register. He glared at it for no reason; the hunter was always in a terrible mood. He left the dollar fifty in the register drawer and then stuffed the rest of the money in his pocket. There. Tip jar.

Sighing a little, Scuttle wiped his hand on the front of his hoodie and went back to leaning on the back counter. At least the huntress hadn’t stayed long, and that was the way he liked it. He hated the lingerers…. They were the worst; and he wanted to push every single one of them into oncoming traffic.

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