[cain is hellbent on chasing down that turkey and pays no heed to the people around him as he curses the pesky bird. he wanted to catch the fattest one, convinced that he'd net himself more than fifty dollars if he did. also he wanted to boast about catching the biggest, baddest bird. regardless of the reason, fifty dollars was fifty dollars.
when he turns the corner to catch up with the bird, he barrels headfirst into a passing citizen (or you!). with a string of curses, and zero apologizes, Cain simply picks himself and looks at the direction the turkey ran off to.
gone.]
Son of a bitch! Look at what you made me do!
iii-a. [it's six in the fucking morning and Cain is NOT a morning person. his nametag ("alexei volkov") hangs upside down on his uniform, hair is standing up unevenly, dark circles form underneath his eyes, a nasty bruise on his neck, and the faint smell of cigarettes define Cain this morning. he looks like, and smells like, he's on the verge of death as he stares at his register like a soulless ghoul. fuck. this job was particularly soul sucking. his only saving grace about this whole thing is the lukewarm coffee that, in Cain's opinion, tastes like shit. luckily there's a simple solution to that.
looking his new customer dead in the eye, he takes out a flask and maintains eye contact as he pours the flask's contents into the coffee cup.]
Yeah. What? You gonna say somethin' about it?
iii-b. No Ma'am. We're all sold out of whatever the hell it is you want. Now scram! You're cuttin' into my break time!
[the disgruntled employee leaves the "Your Manager Will Hear About This" mother behind as he makes his way towards the door. he hopes they tell his manager- hopes he gets fired so he could tell them all to suck his dick. he needs the money but, it's not worth it. not with the constant long days of mobs, door-busting sales, and fake friendly customer service. Cain is ready for a smoke and to blow off steam from the pent-up frustration of retail.
it's only after he lights up his cigarette and blow a hearty amount of smoke does he finally speak.]
Fuck this place, I'm starving.
[yeah he's gonna disappear mid shift, you in?]
iv [Cain doesn't mind the snow at all. in fact, he loves it and had been looking outside the window of his workplace with a certain kind of longing all day. by the time he's finished up with his shift, it's already approaching nightfall and rapidly getting colder with the setting sun. he looks ill dressed out in the snow, like he hasn't been able to afford a new winter coat in ages, but the cold doesn't seem to bother cain. in fact- he looks pretty damn happy.]
Dammit, why don't work give us snow days? I woulda killed for some snow action, baby!
Wildcard (I'm still open to established CR! Cain's workshop AU post is here. Contact me at sleepcoast if you wanna hash out something!)
Cain (Alexei "Cain" Volkov) | Starfighter
C'mere you little fat fucker!
[cain is hellbent on chasing down that turkey and pays no heed to the people around him as he curses the pesky bird. he wanted to catch the fattest one, convinced that he'd net himself more than fifty dollars if he did. also he wanted to boast about catching the biggest, baddest bird. regardless of the reason, fifty dollars was fifty dollars.
when he turns the corner to catch up with the bird, he barrels headfirst into a passing citizen (or you!). with a string of curses, and zero apologizes, Cain simply picks himself and looks at the direction the turkey ran off to.
gone.]
Son of a bitch! Look at what you made me do!
iii-a.
[it's six in the fucking morning and Cain is NOT a morning person. his nametag ("alexei volkov") hangs upside down on his uniform, hair is standing up unevenly, dark circles form underneath his eyes, a nasty bruise on his neck, and the faint smell of cigarettes define Cain this morning. he looks like, and smells like, he's on the verge of death as he stares at his register like a soulless ghoul. fuck. this job was particularly soul sucking. his only saving grace about this whole thing is the lukewarm coffee that, in Cain's opinion, tastes like shit. luckily there's a simple solution to that.
looking his new customer dead in the eye, he takes out a flask and maintains eye contact as he pours the flask's contents into the coffee cup.]
Yeah. What? You gonna say somethin' about it?
iii-b.
No Ma'am. We're all sold out of whatever the hell it is you want. Now scram! You're cuttin' into my break time!
[the disgruntled employee leaves the "Your Manager Will Hear About This" mother behind as he makes his way towards the door. he hopes they tell his manager- hopes he gets fired so he could tell them all to suck his dick. he needs the money but, it's not worth it. not with the constant long days of mobs, door-busting sales, and fake friendly customer service. Cain is ready for a smoke and to blow off steam from the pent-up frustration of retail.
it's only after he lights up his cigarette and blow a hearty amount of smoke does he finally speak.]
Fuck this place, I'm starving.
[yeah he's gonna disappear mid shift, you in?]
iv
[Cain doesn't mind the snow at all. in fact, he loves it and had been looking outside the window of his workplace with a certain kind of longing all day. by the time he's finished up with his shift, it's already approaching nightfall and rapidly getting colder with the setting sun. he looks ill dressed out in the snow, like he hasn't been able to afford a new winter coat in ages, but the cold doesn't seem to bother cain. in fact- he looks pretty damn happy.]
Dammit, why don't work give us snow days? I woulda killed for some snow action, baby!
Wildcard
(I'm still open to established CR! Cain's workshop AU post is here. Contact me at