The soft strumming of a guitar or two and the mesmerizing, scratching voice of one Marylyn Manson’ speed of pain could be heard loud and clear by other people from the ear phone that hung limply at Jesse’s shoulder. The other earphone was plugged tightly into his ear, the volume up and effectively ruining his hearing on the left side.

The coffee shop wasn’t quite so crowded this morning and Jesse was spending his time trying to make himself productive. Actually, that’s a lie. He had been sitting on his ass behind the counter reading a book for the fifth time when his boss had come in and found him just a little too comfortable and put him to work stocking.

Jesse was now walking from the door in the back of the room to the counter, carrying a large blue milk crate full of (you guessed it) cartons of milk, and a smaller, card board box piled with little creamer containers and packs of honey, sugar, sweeteners, and stir sticks and napkins.

Jesse is a tall, lanky figure that looks like he sulks too much and eats too little. His face is as thin as his body and just as pale. His eyes are blue and stand out against the paleness of his skin and darkness of his hair. His hair hangs at his chin, untied at the moment though usually pulled back while he works. It’s black and streaked naturally with premature white hair, thick and healthy compare to his body’s state. His fingers are unusually spidery and his nails cut back short. His fingers, in fact, the whole of both hands are scared with lines. He’s wearing black pants that look just a trifle faded, scuffed boots with broken laces, and the coffee shops white shirt and green apron. The string to the apron wraps around his waist twice, his name tag is slightly crooked on the apron chest and he’s written his name in backwards so that it reads ‘NIKEAL ESSEJ.’ Against the actual work dress code, he’s wearing a long sleeved dark blue worn out shirt beneath the white tee shirt.

His thin lips are mouthing the words to the song as he sets the boxes down on the counter and begins to remove the cartons of milk and put them in the small refrigerator below the counter.

Shay found herself sitting at the table of the coffee shop, enjoying a small coffee (two scoops of sugar and no creamer), reading a magazine about what trends were in and what trends had lost their glamour months ago. She scoffed off the capri notion as a 'fading style'. Capris would always been in for her. She enjoyed them quite a lot, and if this magazine was going to say that they weren't in anymore, she was going to have to stop reading it. She placed it down on the table, closing it, glancing at the cover to see if there were any other stories or polls that she would like to read. While looking down at the magazine, she reached for her coffee and took a sip. It was getting to be a bit strong. She would need something to put into it, but not creamer. Shay was on a diet and creamer would just ruin it completely. So, she got up and pushed her chair in, her auburn hair bouncing slightly as she stood up. Pushing in her chair, she made her way to the counter, where there was a boy working. He looked to be a few years younger than her, enjoying his headphones which were no doubt probably against the dress code and company policy.

"Excuse me?" She said, resting her elbows on the counter, her hair falling about her shoulders and over the red shirt she was wearing. She looked down at the boy doing his work, hoping that he could hear her speak to him over top of the music. "Excuse me?" She tried again. She kept reminding herself not to flirt. She would be at the coffee shop all night flirting with the boy and trying to press him for more if she started, and she needed to get to work on time today. Money was getting tight for some odd reason (probably because of her little splurges as of late) and she couldn't afford to be fired. Bills had to be paid and Shay had to live.

She began to wonder how she looked; Shay couldn't help it really. It was just a natural thing to do with her. She was just one of those girls who tried not to be too aggressive but always came off that way all the same. But, pretty soon, she fell into a neutral state of mind. This boy was working at coffee shop and probably had better things to do with his time than chat with Shay, like do his job, listen to his music and hang with his pals. Pals. Hah. Shay wished she had some. She sighed inwardly and waited, praying that the boy would look up so that she could get some milk.

Pals? Jesse? Aloness recked from every one of his pores, from his appearance, from his posture. A lone wolf living in a pack of wolves. One that lived in the city, worked for people, saw people everyday, and still had nothing to do with them. Sure. He had friends. Like a mouse makes friends with a hungry snake.

Jesse glanced up at the firt 'excuse me' but looked back down into the fridge to place the carton of milk he was already holding on the shelf. He'd served her coffee when she'd entered, Coffee, two sugars, nothing else, and a napkin though it wasn't requested. He knew that he got pissed off if he ordered things and didn't get a napkin to go with it. He had a goal in life after all. Give customers napkins, and eventually die. He gave no real acknowlegement that he'd noticed her besides the quick glance up, but was just about to stand up when her second 'excuse me' fell from her lips.

He put the crate on the floor, straightened up quickly, towering over her, and plucked the second ear phone from his ear, letting them drop until the MP3 in his pocket caught the other end that was plugged in and let them dangle at his knees. One hand resting on the counter, the other pressed flatly against his stomach asserting a little pressure, he looked at her with a less then happy smile, though not quite unfriednly.

"Can I help you?" Slightly scratchy, unused or abused voice. He eaither didn't often talk or liked to sing (scream) along with the words to songs like the one that was now currently playing from the dangling headphones. Manson had faded away and now a vampires lament wailed mournfully at them. Indeed those headphones were aginst regulations, but he didn't care for that rule much.

Inwardly, she sighed. Understanding people was usually her strong point, but this boy was a slight enigma. He either was really tired of his job, or he was normally just exhasperated and embedded in every second of his music. She gazed up at him for a second, then straightened back up so that she was standing straight. "Yes, I was wondering if I could get a milk, please." She wondered, not for the first time about why she always seemed to use a close to perfect English when she spoke to people. It was probably because she always treated a situation from a third person point of view. She tried to imagine what this worker thought of her at that moment, and she tried to imagine what other people thought of her, what she looked like, how it appeared to everyone else. Needless to say, she kind of treated her life like a movie, but tried not to make it so dramatic that she would upstage all the other actors playing a role in this thing called like with her. At this particular moment, Shay probably just seemed like an annoying customer, always complicating the employees job to some extent, and could possibly cause a bit of uptightness from the milk-boy here in front of her. And she probably came off as a really cocky person, sure of herself way too much. Inwardly, she praised herself for that complex and hated herself at the same time. Sometimes, the arrogance level she wished she could switch to off, but now it just came naturally to her.

She wondered how much milk costed now-a-days, and also wondered what time it was. Shay had been running a bit early this morning, but, just slightly obsessed with time, she was ruining her schedule by wanting this milk. In her mind, she wondered if there were some sort of higher power working at her, making sure that this stop in her day happened, as if it might play some crucial role some time down the road. And, then she began to wonder what type of music this person was listening too, but couldn't make out any guitar licks or drum patterns and just heard a confussion of noise that probably made perfect sense to the ears it was being directed to. She glanced down at the name tag and tried to get a name, but it seemed useless; she doubted that she'd ever be able to pronounced that name and decided not to try. People are easily offended if you mis-pronounced their names sometimes. So, patiently she waited.

He was really tired of his job. And the music. It was just noise to distract him from his life, to annoy the customers and his boss, to help him go deaf in one ear. Well, maybe the last wasn’t a direct goal but it certinlly would happen if he continued to listen to it so loudly out of only one ear. He seemed to stare at her for a moment blankly, but it was just an impression. Really, she requested milk and he went straight back down into the squatting position and plucked out the milk carton.

she tried to think of what this worker thought of her at the moment.

Shay probably just seemed like an annoying customer, always complicating the employees job to some extent, and could possibly cause a bit of uptightness from the milk-boy here in front of her

Up tight? Jesse? Yeah, sure. He was probably the most lax and uncaring person to walk the planet on his long lanky legs. What did he think of her? Another reason not to like work. Another reason that he had to work, even if he didn’t like it. Really, he thought nothing of her. His mind was full with his own thoughts that he wasn’t going to spare anything extra on a woman simply asking for some milk.

He put the big carton of milk back and instead pulled out a little one, like the ones they serve you at lunch in the elementary schools. At least, they did in the schools for military children.

How much did milk cost? He would say from a super market. But this rinky dink little cartoon cost a dollar. Waaay over priced in his opinion, but who the hell was he to say? What time was it? A little after seven. He didn’t wear a watch so he couldn’t say. But the shop opened at six, he had to be there by five to open. The place didn’t close until midnight or after but he only had morning shift today. Five to twelve. So if you asked him what time it was, he might shrug and tell you somewhere between five am and twelve.

Anyways, just because he didn’t care didn’t mean he’d not at least try to exert himself in being polite.

“Would you like the whole carton or just a little for the coffee?” The difference? “It’ll be a dollar for the carton,” glance over his shoulder to look for the boss. No where in sight, “I can give you a bit for the coffee free.” Some might mistake this for flirting. It’s not. He’s just being polite to a customer and defying his boss. Two pluses in one.

He watched her eyes drop to his name tag, and then disregaured it just as quickly. A smile tugged in the corner of his thin lips. It could barely be called a smile as the corners barely lifted an ounce. People always looked at his tag, then didn’t bother.

“Jesse.” He replied, enjoying the confusion his tag created.

Shay looked up at the boy's face, pressing her tongue below her bottom teeth, her eyebrows slanting downwards, obviously in a bit of thought. After a few second of trying to register what he had said last, she looked back down at his name tag, and then grinned from one corner of her mouth, licking her bottom lip slightly out of recognition. "Jesse, huh?" Shay said, looking the boy in the eyes. "It's written backwards, isn't it?" Why on earth would someone write their name backwards? She wondered, but didn't say it outloud. Was it really that entertaining to write your name backwards on a nametag for a coffee shop and watch people's confused expressions as they tried to pronounce his name? She shrugged inwardly, sighing to herself. To each his own, she thought. Everyone had their own different way of entertaining themselves, though Shay's was far from that.

Then, Shay remembered what Jesse had said about the milk, and she pondered for the moment. She really should take the whole thing, but the free for the coffee thing was kind of tempting; who didn't like the word 'free' in a sentence? But, she eventually decided against it. Her diet would just call for the required amount of dairy from the food pyramid. "I'll just take the carton, by the way," she addressed him. She pulled her purse up from her side, and wondered if there was even any money in there. Opening it up, she found a few bucks, and wondering where she had found money to put in there, she pulled out the correct amount of money to buy the milk. Shay was tired of weird things happening to her. Her coffee glass at home would always break whenever she got angry and her plumbing would start acting up if she was extremely sad. Whatever sort of spirit was acting against her, she was tired of it, until that moment. Whether or not she had always had that money was a different story, but she was grateful for it nonetheless.

It wasn’t really that entertaining to watch the confusion on peoples face as they tried to pronounce his name. It was more amusing to pretend to be angry at people for offending him with not being able to read his name. He was dilexic and he couldn’t help it! It wasn’t his fault someone couldn’t read his stupid tag because he couldn’t write right. Actually, he was dislexic, but he’s learned to read and write properly. Another plus would be his bosses anger at the tag, and that he couldn’t yell at him because of a minor handicap in writing. ‘It’s written Backwards isn’t it?’

“Not to me it isn’t.”

His face couldn’t have been more serious or grave then it was now. The surprised look on her face was strange. Had she not expected that money to be there? Or had she had more money and it’d been stolen? It would be her fault if it was stolen anyways. Always keep you money on you, not hidden out of your sight in a purse. Put it in your pocket, you could feel if someone were reaching in there. Purses were one thing, among many, he thought the world could do with out. They were silly.

He se the cold milk carton on the counter and pulled out a napkin from the pocket of his apron and set it beside said carton. He’d never had those problems with coffee glasses breaking at home, in fact, he didn’t have any coffee glasses at home. And here, well, he’s probably the only employee whose not broken something, those large spidery hands wrapped around everything. Despite all his annoyance to the boss, he was probably the best employee he had. That’s why he’s not been fired yet.

“Will that be all, ma’am?” Punch the cash register button and ringing it up, the drawer sliding open.


((this is my brothers sn but nevertheless it's Kyle (thorn) on his name))

"Yes," Shay said, feeling slightly embarassed; she had obviously offended the boy, and even so she was usually known for her heart of steel, she felt aweful all the same. "Yes, that'll be all." She gingerly held the money out to him, waiting for him to take it, wondering how long he had worked here, how many people had stared at that tag, and exactly how many times he had to explain his name and his name tag and about how it wasn't meant as a joke. But, all the while she was standing there, her weight shifting so that it all rested on her left leg, she looked at the person in front of her, handling the milk, with the odd name tag. Something felt odd about him, but it was odd in a compelling way. Shey always seemed to be attracted to the people who didn't exactly fit society's standard of 'norma'. But, as someone had once told her, "Being normal is highly over-rated," so, she usually tried not to judge, but she couldn't help it. He looked like he had a hard life, she could almost see it in the way his eyes sat upon his countanence, and it seemed a bit odd, didn't it, that Shay would pay attention to such a thing. But, eye contact was what she did, and she did a lot of it.

"I'm really sorry," Shay murmered, swallowing, not really sure if she should say this, but decided to go ahead with it all the same, "but it seems as if you can read my mind." She laughed at her self, shaking her head slightly, looking away to collect herself and looking back again. "I know it sounds strange, but, have we met before? It just seems like we have."

Shay was a believer in past lives; it had been a recent development in her character. Even if Jesse and Shay hadn't met before in this life, it was completely possible to Shay (and plausible at that), that these two had met at another time, in different circumstances. She tried to keep the same serious expression that he had when he had explained his name tag, but it was just so stupid that she had asked that, and her eyes smiled a bit, trying to keep the mood lifted.

Being normal isn’t so over rated. But trying to be normal when you know that you aren’t is beyond over rated. It’s flat out stupidity. That’s why Jesse isn’t a believer in dressing himself up beyond the daily work clothing or putting on that so called ‘gothic’ make up or following the ‘gothic’ trends with thos bondaged pants and such non sense. That wasn’t gothic. It was freakish and abnormal and just a waist of time, money, and resource.

As for something feeling odd about him, he was odd. But not too much soo. Jesse stood straight in the back, but his shoulders slumped forward, he looked disciplined but tired and ghostly. Of course there was something weird. He had military posture tainted with rebel actions and persona. At her words, he stopped moving and stared at her for a moment, another quirk of a maybe possibly hint of a smile but it did not form. He took the money, punched in the price, stopped and stared at her with his blue eyes narrowed. Then he shook his head, looked down and continued to count out her change. His headshake was only a slight twitch of the head.

“Sorry ma’am.” He spoke to the cash tray, then looked up at her. “Haven’t got a clue what you’re thinking.”

Was that...humor we detect in the sulky teen?

He held the change out to her with her second receipt of the day in the coffee shop. A twitch of the shoulder that was very similar to the twitch of his head.

“No clue.”