[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/DgFuLg7.jpg[/img][/center] [center][b][color=silver]"Gnar, come eat."[/color][/b][/center] Dropping the bag of kibble, Jason ran a hand through his long, messy locks, still damp from his steaming-hot shower. Already, he was regretting the way he spent his night. Usually, he'd get a nice seven hours of sleep, so that he could wake up early, do his morning routine, and maybe even get in a quick jog before work. Today, however? Only four hours of sleep. Combine that with an unnaturally pounding migraine and muscle soreness, and one could easily tell that Jason wasn't in the best of moods. The previous night, he'd spent hours playing League - solo queue, since his online friends were either across the country, or busy with school. The first hour or so was Ranked - Diamond III, since he couldn't really muster up the try-hardiness to make it to Challenger. After that, it was simply playing whatever striked his fancy. ARAM, Draft and Blind Pick, the works. It was one of the biggest gaming binges he had this year, and he so, so regretted it now. Falling back into his rolling chair, Jason popped another aspirin into his mouth, pushing his bare feet on the floor so that his chair slid over to the living room's coffee table, where a glass of cold water was waiting for him. He took his time sipping the cool liquid, relishing in the temporary relief. It was six A.M - his alarm clock hadn't seem to realize that he didn't have the correct amount of sleep. Work was in...an hour? Two hours? He had to be up there at 8, but he generally got there a bit early so that he could get started on the dishes. [i][color=silver]Damn, maybe I should call in si-[/color][/i] The sound of tiny, galloping footsteps interrupted his inner complaint, Jason barely opening an eye just in time to see a brown and black blur jetting straight to his face. [b][color=silver]"Gnar-!" [/color][/b] He was cut off as the bullet slammed into him, causing his beloved leather chair to tip back, betraying both Jason, and gravity. There was a brief second where Jason was stuck between grabbing Gnar off of his head, and trying to re-balance himself. In the end, motherly instincts took over, and he grabbed the pupper and held him in his arms, even as the chair completely fell backwards. The wind was knocked out of his chest at the impact, and Jason simply lied there, his headache pounding at a constant pace. Crystal blue eyes closed once again. His head was really pounding now, and the soreness in his body wasn't fading away. Dying here, on his floor...it didn't seem too bad. ... ... [b][color=f7976a]"Woof."[/color][/b] [color=silver][b]"Bite me."[/b][/color] ... [color=silver][b]"Ow! I'm up, damn it."[/b][/color] Ignoring the pain, Jason rolled backwards, wincing as the cold floor touched his bare skin. In his own home, he never really saw any reason to dress up, so he only wore sweatpants. It's always quite awkward whenever the owner came for his rent. He carefully stood, his hand, once more, coming up to pass through his black hair - a nervous habit he picked up years ago. It was becoming about time to head out. Normally, if he was feeling this bad, he'd just call in sick. But, considering this month's rent was due in a week, and he wanted pocket money for groceries, he just had to suck it up and get in his hours. Gnar, the troublesome dick, was lapping at his water bowl happily, as if he hadn't just caused Jason to nearly die. After picking up his chair, Jason flipped the puppy off, while backing up towards his bedroom. As he made it past the doorway, Gnar turned around, and the happy-sounding bark it let out sounded condescending as Hell. Jason scowled and shut his door, making his way to his closet. [hr] Jason locked his door behind him, before bending down and sliding the spare key underneath the welcome mat. Usually, before she went out for work, the old lady in the room next to his would check in on Gnar and make sure the puppy wasn't summoning Satan or something - which Jason offered to pay her for, but she always waved him off. Still, he was hoping that someone would put down an ad for dog-sitting soon. Hell, baby-sitting, too. He was sure he could convince them. Standing, Jason turned around, ready to head downstairs and out to the diner. While some would say that his clothing choice wasn't really suited for a bus boy - a black, collared jacket with the sleeves rolled up, a dark gray shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers - but Jason wasn't really interested in wairing a butler suit everyday to work. The manager, an old man by the name of Jerry, didn't seem to have a problem with it as long as he wore an apron, so Jason wore what he wanted. He began making his way down the stairs, two steps at a time, when a sudden wave of...something hit him. It was like dizziness...but his limbs felt like they were coated with iron, and his heart skipped a beat. For a second, he felt, and saw, nothing. And then...he was cognitive again, only his body was already tilting forward, head-first, at the top of the long staircase. His body froze, even though his mind was screaming to move. And then, he was falling. His body decided to wake up, at this moment. Jason's eyes opened, and he acted. Unaware of the visible wisps of wind circulating his form, flowing through his hair and clothing, Jason slammed a palm against the concrete stair, just before his head could make contact with the stone. With strength and agility he didn't even know he had, the young man pushed off of his palm, flipping once through the air before he landed, softly and almost silently, at the bottom of the staircase, one foot at a time. As soon as he made contact with the ground, the wind dissipated. Along with his adrenaline. And, with that, Jason fell on his ass, staring at his hand. [color=silver][b]"What...the Hell?"[/b][/color] [hr] Jason entered the diner through the back employee door, after clicking the 'lock' button on his keyring. The black Camaro beeped once in assurance, and Jason hooked the keys to his belt, before taking off his jacket and lying it near the spices rack. After the little event at the apartment, which Jason simply summed up to dumb luck and adrenaline, the headache had abated just a tad - more of a constant knocking, rather than someone banging on the walls of his skull. Good thing, too, since the diner seemed to be pretty active this morning. As he grabbed an apron from it's rack, Jason felt someone bump into his side, causing him to take a step back. Raising an eyebrow, he threw the apron over his shoulder and looked down, noticing the cook - Noelle, he thought - with her face facing the ground. That wasn't a good sign. Plus, her shoulders seemed hunched, and her over-all body language seemed spooked. Thank you, Psychology 101. [color=silver][b]"Hey, Noelle, you okay? You look scared."[/b][/color] He asked carefully, temporarily looking away from her to grab a dish-towel from the shelf above the aprons.