“What’s up dude?” Joel said with a grin and captured Booker’s handshake firmly. There was always a connection between two men who made their living with their hands. He was a little flattered by the big man’s excited greeting. He didn’t know how the guy pulled it off, but Joel could scantly remember a time where he’d been there and the grill-master’s attitude was any different, always beaming. Aside from that, he could somehow remember everyone’s name that had ever set foot in the building. “Oh you know,” He said with a shrug. “Livin’ the dream.” He caught a scent of his prepared meal: spicy grilled chicken with vegetables and it was [i]divine[/i]. “Tryin’ to keep it lean,” He said rubbing one hand over his abs, “Doin’ some [i]cuttin[/i]’” He said with a smirk and pulled out his wallet.

[i]Shorts again? [/i]

Joel glanced to the side towards the source of the voice. He began to turn back to Booker before his glance shot back quicker towards the woman next to him. For a moment, a split second, he locked eyes with her and her gaze pierced him. She looked considerably different than the wet ragamuffin that he’d encountered earlier in the day. Ripped jeans and sneakers with a leather jacket and flowing dark hair looked back at him. [i]Damn, there’s a contrast[/i]. He thought. His sarcastic inner voice was scrambling at light-speed to get back on kilter and direct the ship as usual. He smirked a little back at her. “What are you a stalker or somethin’?” He said, “Or have you come to spy on the competition?”

[@Saarebas]
[@SamaraJayne96]