A Flat in Brighton, Wednesday Afternoon
Valentine hadn't spent the entirety of his time in the real world thus far simply sitting in front of a mirror, making faces at himself.
Simply most of it. The rest of that time was spent on the beach with a trio of juggling balls, busking for spare change. Lunch money, it had accounted to. There was enough money in Jason's bank account to cover rent for another month, but if Valentine was planning on eating through June and supporting Naminé as well, then he was going to have to get himself...
A job. A real job.
He'd never held down a real job in his life.
And so, with a hefty sigh (and another raspberry at himself in the mirror for good measure), Valentine at long last stood up and set out to find himself some form of respectable employment.
Even if it meant becoming a waiter.
[NFB for distance, of course. NFI, unless you want to phone him on his way out? I'll get the hang of this Alum thing, yet.]
Simply most of it. The rest of that time was spent on the beach with a trio of juggling balls, busking for spare change. Lunch money, it had accounted to. There was enough money in Jason's bank account to cover rent for another month, but if Valentine was planning on eating through June and supporting Naminé as well, then he was going to have to get himself...
A job. A real job.
He'd never held down a real job in his life.
And so, with a hefty sigh (and another raspberry at himself in the mirror for good measure), Valentine at long last stood up and set out to find himself some form of respectable employment.
Even if it meant becoming a waiter.
[NFB for distance, of course. NFI, unless you want to phone him on his way out? I'll get the hang of this Alum thing, yet.]