OC snippets

Polybuis; In which a change cabinet does not store change.

(TW for hints at self harm*, graphic depictions of blood + gore/generally gross stuff*, and physical violence)
*mention of scars, picking at scabs (it's minor, but still.)
*mystery mucus. It makes sense I promise.

This has been in my drafts for literally over a year. please enjoy it. Disclaimer, It's very cringe and not the best thing I've ever written, but I need to put it out somewhere. I don't really know how to write exposition so I just kind of. Shoehorned it in there. Sorry.

No beta we die like the cabinet man

~~~

Work, Leslie thought to herself, was boring.

She had been there for almost 4 hours and had still managed to do absolutely nothing. She'd gotten stuck with the Sunday shift that day after one of her coworkers had taken sick leave and needed someone else to cover for him. A lot of her coworkers had been taking sick leave as of late, actually. First it was Anna Dithets with an awful case of the flu, then Freddie Herrenns had managed to break his leg, and now Wyatt, the closest thing she had to a work friend, was out with a cold.

Well, in revision "a lot" was a bit of an overstatement, but only a handful of people really worked at the small arcade anyways. barely anyone came in to them anymore now that hand-held consoles were slowly working their way onto kids Christmas lists. Still, in the end, it didn't change that Leslie was stuck working the Sunday shift, and how infinitely bored she was.

She'd spent most of her shift picking up after the few kids who'd come by the day before; collecting stray tickets and candy wrappers, drenching old stains with bleach, and emptying out the change cabinets (the ones that still worked, anyways). But after that, she'd still had 2 hours left on the clock, and so she'd settled on managing the prize counter at the back of the building. The quality and variety of the prizes changed often, as most of the small trinkets and sweets were paid for out of pocket by the 10-odd employees that ran the place, but it still managed to be her favorite part of the whole ordeal of working there.

Sitting there as a kid ran up excitedly with a wad of tickets and picking out exactly what they wanted was the best part of the job. At least you could watch people be happy, even if you were stuck with a headache behind a counter. She wondered vaguely if this is how amusement park workers felt watching jumpy kids and excited adults get on rollercoasters; stuck on the ground as unsuspecting victims were tossed and turned and otherwise jostled in a joyous mix between excitement and utter terror. Probably not, considering they got thrown up on more than she did.

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by something much more alarming than rollercoasters or vomit or ticket counters. A customer had walked in about 5 minutes ago and was now staring at her, rather disappointedly. She looked, upon further inspection, like a hot mess. She had dark circles hidden under a pair of tired green-grey eyes. Her bangs were wild and uncut, and they framed her face like an unruly caramel shrubbery. She was definitely older than Leslie, but stood about a head shorter. She was very tired and, not exactly angry, but definitely getting there. Perfectly balanced between bereft and ornery.

Leslie sat up, removing her elbows from the counter, instead vying to gently rest her hands over the prize-desk. She'd hoped she didn't look too much like a delinquent, staring absentmindedly and whatnot on the job. Adults tended to be a lot more difficult to handle than children, and oftentimes got considerably more angry when you weren't paying attention to them. Especially when they look like the only thing keeping them going is half a cup of coffee and a prayer.

"Hello! Do you.. um. Need assistance of any kind?" Leslie tentatively queried, smiling out of habit. The lady didn't do much for a minute, looking around at the prizes, weighing something in her head. Leslie silently followed her gaze, finding it landed on the old baseball bat one of her coworkers had brought in a few weeks ago. It was 2000 tickets, so no kid had ever been offered a real chance for it. But the fact that that was what she was looking at did not help qualm any anxieties Leslie had about this rather disheveled lady in front of her.