Mr.Sailor! | Sunjake

𝗦 𝗖 𝗘 𝗡 𝗘 | 𝟯

"Yeh lot is barmy." Old Man Bruce commented.

"Absolutely." Mr.Sim supplied. "I think the booze already sloshed him."

I can't tell this to Renjun that the man's papa he's fancying for already gave me a go sign. Fiorello thought, he gripped the tray he was holding and shivered. I don't even like Jeno, he's an oaf, clumsy to the fullest, and always smiles without any reason.

"Well, then enjoy your booze, sires." Fiorello bowed jokingly and hurried out before Mr.Lee add another ridiculous connotation. "Goddess. Bless me. I'd rather not talk to Jeno."

꧁✿꧂

It was already late at night, around past 8 o'clock, it was already late in the rural side of Italy. Fiorello was already wiping down empty tables, collecting empty and half-finished pints, and grabbing the cutleries and plates. Still, the inn was still lively and rowdy, most of the customers were either sober or drunk-out-of-their-minds; some of them were dancing on the second level with old music playing out on the radio, and some were betting on the pool table.

"Psst." Fiorello's father called him. "Are you doing good there, bud?"

Fiorello gave his father a warm smile. "Perfectly fine, Papa. I'm also enjoying, Old Man Bruce sure has one of a heck alcohol resistance."

"For sure." His father replied and chuckled. "You see? There? They'll absolutely regret betting on the pool table. The players are a lost cause."

Fiorello gazes at where his father was pointing and he was right the players weren't even hitting the white billiard ball and were thrusting the pool stick in the air beside the ball. It was a comical sight, so he laughed quite heartily.

"What are they betting on, papa?" Fiorello asked, eyes still watching the comical scene.

"Their week's catch, who knows." His father shrugged, hands busy wiping the pints. "One of them will surely regret it tomorrow. Their wives will throw them out when they'll hear this."

Fiorello chuckled, he just shake his head and didn't try to stop the sailors from their drunken inhibitions.

"I'm looking forward to you fixing sister's bike, Papa." Fiorello reminded his father, who gave him an affronted smile. "Papa, don't give me that look! Think of it as your payment for me covering up the shift."

His father playfully gave him an unamused gaze, but the corner of his lips was smiling upwards.

Fiorello then waved at his father teasingly and went over to the kitchen where his mother was washing the plates, cutleries, and pints. Both of them shared a smile then they danced around the kitchen his mother washed used ceramics and cutleries while he was drying them and placing them back on the racks and cabinets. The inn's cook, Mrs.Sim, was staying later than usual she was mostly out by five o'clock in the evening as another cook will switch with her shift, but today the cook excused himself as he was taking care of his sick wife. Mrs.Sim took the opportunity to have an overtime shift today. Their rhythm continued for the next thirty minutes or so until Fiorello's father went inside the kitchen.

"Fiorello." Fiorello's father beckoned him over. "Come here for a minute, I'm sorry to disturb you, bud."

Fiorello dried his hands and went over to his father. "Yes, Papa? Another set of sailors again? Which tables to set up? I'll go over there immediately."

"No, no, no." His father shook his head vehemently. "Not that, can I ask you to fetch Salvios? His father is already drunk out of wits, he's flopping there on the table already."