The barman and the waiter.
The barman, cleaning up the counter, met the waiter ahead.
— "Oi! Newbie, c'mere."
The waiter's hair swayed as he walked to the barman, posture confident yet a bit lazy.
— "Yes, sir?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with his tray in hand.
The bartender nearly lost himself in the waiter's cold gaze—but looking like earth. The sea and grass tangled together. He straightened himself before polishing a glass.
— "How's the first day?" he asked, smiling as always.
— "More dangerous than I thought." he answers as he places his free hand on his hip, shifting his weight on that hip.
Barman couldn't help but notice how the waiter seemed nonchalant yet guarded— one would usually be scared.
— "That's the beauty of this place." he admitted, pushing the glass away with a clink.
The waiter scoffed. His eyes went to a part of the bar as the corner of his lips turned upward.
— "Beauty? Sure, call it like that." sarcasm didn't leave his tone.
The barman chuckled, filling a glass with whiskey.
— "Trust me, this place grows on you."
Suddenly, a loud boom echoed from the backroom, swearing following after. None of them flinched.
— "Do I even want to know?" the waiter raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.
— "Nope." barman replied as he slid a glass on the counter to a random customer.
They went back to work, their first meeting ending there. Already in sync.