“Hey. Just finished the gents. I'll clean myself up so I can cook too, just in case anyone wants something.”
John's voice startled Charlize out of the blur of voices and sounds that were filling the bar. Revealing a bit of a jump in her bones as her head turned to look at him. He scooted past her as he put his supplies away in the closet next to her. Her gaze traveled down, "Yep, that butt is still fantastic." she thought to herself, cracking a smile at her own perverted thoughts. Could anyone blame her? She caught herself staring and shook her head before speaking, "Oh, alright John-" Charli started, "Whatever you need to do, we're pretty much written down for everything on the to do list today!" she cheered with a smirk, this was how it was usually every day.
"Oh, and Jo-" Charlize started, trailing off as she realized he had already walked away. Her teeth sunk into her lip as she looked back at the paper pinned to the wall. "Nevermind" she whispered to herself. She was going to tell him how she had heard his song again this morning. How every time she heard it, it brought her some real life. Not the life that just kept your body working and your brain functioning- but the kind of life that made you happy you were here. Even if the reason you were here was a terrible one.
Her current task was a mundane one; restocking. It didn't take too much thought, but Charlize enjoyed it quite a bit. Quickly she took inventory of the items she needed to pick up in a data bank that rested inside her head. The idea that moving one box from one place to another in just that simple of fashion could make the outcome of the day run smooth or terribly was such a fascinating idea to the young girl. She quite wondered if life was like that same process. You move along, transferring your boxes from place to place. Of course, there will be days you mess up and move the box to the wrong spot but, there will be other days where you get to...
"Charlize?" the guy working the supply area asked timidly. "What? Oh. Sorry! Let me uh.." Charli had been wrapped up in her thoughts all the way downstairs to the hub in which all the multiple doings of the order resigned. She blinked rapidly as she accessed her data bank that had been installed into her head that fateful night. The bank consisted of three editable ports. Port one was memories, all things she wanted to keep safe belonged in port one. Port two was physicality, mentalities, and practicalities. This included things such as knowing how to walk, knowing how to speak, knowing not to punch yourself in the face when the doorbell rings. Port two was a no touch zone, as Charlize didn't want to corrupt any files that could mess her up in anyway. Port three was her short term memory slot. She often used this for just storing things for the day and week. It was by the weekend she'd lay in her bed and sort out all the information and place it in correct spot she felt fit.
Needing napkins? Trash. Some drunken werewolf trying to hump her leg? Trash. John's butt? Port one.
Charlize's eyes stopped blinking as she gave the man a grin, "I need: new ice scoop, 1 blender blade, 3 bar stools, 1 pour top, 2 orders of garnishes, soap, napkins, toilet paper, cleaning rags, and 24 shot glasses." There was a bachelor party the other night, and the vampires really don't have any respect for things when they get crazy. The man raised his eyebrows, "Alright, I'll start on that right now. Did you want me to send some guys up with you or-" Charli interrupted, "Oh no, no. I'll get it. I'll take a few trips, I don't mind. I need the exercise!" Eventually the man began placing things on the counter in boxes, and packages, and Charlize started to bring them up back into the bar that was increasingly becoming more busy as the time wore on.
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