He has a sort of manic charm
Worries, Nephrite decides, are like dirt. Every time he gets rid of them, they come back! It's the dirt he's focused on at first. He scrubs the counters hard enough to wear away the finish. He overzealously mops the floor - and trips thanks to its slipperiness once he's done. He catches his stumble before he falls, and curses the mop and the soapy water.
This does not put him in a good mood when the doors fly open to admit some thuggish-looking guy. Nephrite gives the customer a sullen glare. "All the money," the apparently-not-a-customer demands.
Oh, screw that. If he can't take some human punk! "What do you think you're asking, you bastard?!" Nephrite all but shouts.
"Give me the money." It sounds much less confident the second time. The crook, who'd heard rumors of the soft, easygoing boy who mans the desk of Crown Karaoke, is nonplussed by the cursing, violent boy... who has props.
Nephrite grabs for whatever comes to his hands first, and it turns out to be a baseball bat meant for one of the rooms. They grapple, and Nephrite takes a few hits to his face before he gets the upper hand. He seizes the intruder's collar with his free hand and the guy barely manages to jerk free and run at top-speed away from his unfortunately chosen target.
There's a grin on Nephrite's face all night that even the plasters to cover the bruises and scrapes on his cheek can't hide. Maybe he's still cut out to fight after all. Come by?
This does not put him in a good mood when the doors fly open to admit some thuggish-looking guy. Nephrite gives the customer a sullen glare. "All the money," the apparently-not-a-customer demands.
Oh, screw that. If he can't take some human punk! "What do you think you're asking, you bastard?!" Nephrite all but shouts.
"Give me the money." It sounds much less confident the second time. The crook, who'd heard rumors of the soft, easygoing boy who mans the desk of Crown Karaoke, is nonplussed by the cursing, violent boy... who has props.
Nephrite grabs for whatever comes to his hands first, and it turns out to be a baseball bat meant for one of the rooms. They grapple, and Nephrite takes a few hits to his face before he gets the upper hand. He seizes the intruder's collar with his free hand and the guy barely manages to jerk free and run at top-speed away from his unfortunately chosen target.
There's a grin on Nephrite's face all night that even the plasters to cover the bruises and scrapes on his cheek can't hide. Maybe he's still cut out to fight after all. Come by?