Outfit
The little bell above the Inkpot's door jingled as Max pushed through, hitching his textbooks and computer a little more firmly in his grip. He swept his eyes over the interior, finding he hadn't quite beat out the afternoon crowd, but it wasn't as packed as it could be. Plenty of free tables for him to knock his head against his textbook in peace. The degree he was working on was just two years, an associate's, but he needed it to settle in properly at the fire station. Make that career shift stick.
"Hey Sarge!" A call from the counter had him turning his attention to the barista, Max huffing a laugh. Wear your old army training shirt once and they never let you forget it. "What're you having?"
“The biggest cup of coffee you've got,” he answered, stepping up to the till and using his free hand to get his wallet out of his pocket. The barista chuckled, arching an eyebrow at the books he was carrying, a silent acknowledgement that he planned on hanging around for a bit. “You know how I like it.” The advantage of being something of a regular. A bit out of his way, but he didn't mind catching the T or jogging over if it meant good coffee.
He was already digging out the cash he needed, handing it over and tucking a dollar in the tip jar. The barista told him it'd be a minute, smiling as they went to get it brewed, leaving Max to step to the side and wait. He spent a moment juggling the things he had in his hands, trying to get his wallet back in his pocket, but couldn't save his notebook from slipping out of his grip and falling, bouncing away from him.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, wondering if he should give up on the table in the back.
The little bell above the Inkpot's door jingled as Max pushed through, hitching his textbooks and computer a little more firmly in his grip. He swept his eyes over the interior, finding he hadn't quite beat out the afternoon crowd, but it wasn't as packed as it could be. Plenty of free tables for him to knock his head against his textbook in peace. The degree he was working on was just two years, an associate's, but he needed it to settle in properly at the fire station. Make that career shift stick.
"Hey Sarge!" A call from the counter had him turning his attention to the barista, Max huffing a laugh. Wear your old army training shirt once and they never let you forget it. "What're you having?"
“The biggest cup of coffee you've got,” he answered, stepping up to the till and using his free hand to get his wallet out of his pocket. The barista chuckled, arching an eyebrow at the books he was carrying, a silent acknowledgement that he planned on hanging around for a bit. “You know how I like it.” The advantage of being something of a regular. A bit out of his way, but he didn't mind catching the T or jogging over if it meant good coffee.
He was already digging out the cash he needed, handing it over and tucking a dollar in the tip jar. The barista told him it'd be a minute, smiling as they went to get it brewed, leaving Max to step to the side and wait. He spent a moment juggling the things he had in his hands, trying to get his wallet back in his pocket, but couldn't save his notebook from slipping out of his grip and falling, bouncing away from him.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, wondering if he should give up on the table in the back.