Chapter Text
You know you shouldn’t complain about your job. It’s pretty easy, especially considering all the horror stories you’ve heard from others who have the misfortune of working in the retail industry. The only thing that really got on your nerves was the absolute incompetence of your coworkers. On a good day, you’d get through the shift with minimal issues. Maybe one manager call, a couple mildly disgruntled customers, but nothing major. But not today. Today, you had the displeasure to work with probably the least qualified cashier in the history of ever, which left you to do everything. You stocked the queue line, filled the cooler, wiped down the counters, and suffered by yourself to unbox, price, and put out all the brand new water bottles that’d just come in the day before. You sigh, the ache of lifting the biggest of the bottles onto the highest shelf settling deep in your arms. Who the hell even needs a water bottle that big, you thought, and who would be willing to pay over $100 for it? In fact, it was less like a bottle and more of a jug, stainless steel and able to hold up to a gallon. You figured by the time you’d filled it up with anything it’d be impossible to lift. As you think about how satisfying it’d be to smack your coworker with a steel jug, a shuffling sound brings you back from your thoughts. You craned your head up to see a rather tall customer waiting patiently for you to return back to reality.
“You alright, miss?” he asks, his expression unreadable behind a worn balaclava. In fact, his entire outfit was tattered and distressed. He looked like he’d just crawled out of a cave, or maybe a previously sealed tomb. His jacket was threadbare and clung to his frame and the shirt beneath it was practically tearing apart. You quickly straightened up and slipped back into work mode, flashing a smile.
“I’m so sorry sir! How can I help you today?” you chirped, praying he didn’t notice your staring. He shifted uncomfortably. “I need new clothes.”
You smiled at his deadpan delivery, like that wasn’t entirely obvious. “Of course, I can lend a hand with that” you said, rounding the counter and taking a look back over at your coworker, who may as well have been on another planet with how present they were at the moment. They’d be fine watching the front alone for a minute. As you led the absolute brick wall of a man down the many aisles, you tried to get a little more information on what he needed. Unfortunately, you would’ve have more luck pulling teeth than trying to figure out what the hell he wanted.
“So, is there anything in particular you’re looking for? Winter clothes, workout clothes, a new jacket perhaps?”
“Hoodie sounds nice.”
“Ok, what kind?”
“Dunno…a warm one?”
“M’kay…do you need it for work, just to wear? Is there maybe a certain price range in mind?”
“Just need it to keep warm and last a while”
Mildly exasperated, you guided him to the back to look at the workwear section. You didn’t like to push sales, but it was the best thing you could think of with what little info you had.
“These are probably what you’re looking for, they’re thick, warm, durable, and they run a little big which is perfect for someone like you,” you said before quickly realizing how bad that sounded. The large man tilted his head down towards you, his gave felt heavy and suffocating.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that! I just meant they’re good for bigger folks-not that you’re fat, I don’t think you’re fat, I think you’re fine, very fine, you’re just really really tall!” you sputtered, desperately trying to save face. He lifted a brow and huffed a small laugh before turning to the rack and pointing to a hoodie on the highest rack. “’K then. How ‘bout that one?”
He could’ve easily reached up and got it, but it wasn’t your place to ask the customer to do any work. After all, it said right on your nametag ‘I’m here to help’. Not trying to open your mouth again for fear of embarrassing yourself further you gave an awkward smile and nodded while reaching for a clothing hook. You plucked the first one off the hook and handed it to him, not bothering to check the size. He brought it up to his torso, the sleeves only half the size of his arms and looked back at you.
“Thought you said I was a big bloke, hm?” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone. You envied the clothes hanging on the racks as you took the hoodie back and placed it on the hook. Of course, the larger sizes were in the back, so you had to maneuver the hook through the forest of fabric to hopefully snag a bigger size. The customer could only watch on in amusement as you cursed under your breath and waved the clothing hook around trying desperately to pick the right size. After seemingly forever, you hooked the hoodie in the far back and managed to get it down and into the customer’s hands.
You meant to say “Looks like this is an XXL. It might still be a bit baggy even if it is your size, but you’re welcome to try it on in our fitting room,” but the words died in your throat as you watched the large man lift the hoodie over his head. A strip of his stomach was exposed, large muscles insulated by a healthy layer of fat and a thicket of blonde hair trailing down the middle. Your heart slammed against your ribs, thumping and echoing in your ears loud enough you swore he could hear it. Meanwhile, he was occupied, straightening the fabric over his torso and checking to see how it fit.
“’s nice. I’ll take it,” he said, rubbing the fabric of the sleeves between his fingers. It took your brain a second to catch up, firing on all cylinders to force a smile and move your feet to lead him towards the checkout. The air was heavy on the way back, and you could feel his gaze flicking to you occasionally. As you made your way around the counter and punched in your login for the register, you made a pitiful attempt to clear your throat.
“So, what’s your number?” you asked, readying your fingers over the number keys. He hesitated for a second, you could practically see the gears turning the way his brows furrowed.
“You aren’t going to ask my name first?” he said, causing your face to turn a flaming red.
“For loyalty purposes, sir,” you managed to squeak. You swore you could see the smile under that damn mask as he reached for his wallet.
“Oh, uh, can we skip that please?” he asked. You nodded, scanning the hoodie’s tag and flicking through the menus with practiced precision.
“Your total is $59.37; will you be paying cash or card sir?” He rustled through the leather folds and pulled out two crisp bills.
“Keep the change, have a nice day,” he said, already out the door before you’d even picked the money off the counter. You watched as he disappeared into the parking lot, nearly missing the tattered slip of paper slipped between the two bills. You squinted at it. It looked like a ransom note written by a preschooler with the way the letters were all scrawled in a sort of lopsided chicken scratch. A very hurriedly written “S. Riley” was scribbled at the top, and a wonky drawing of what you could only guess was a skull was precariously positioned under a number.