[ The couch in the office isn't the most comfortable thing to sleep on, but it does the trick when Jefferson doesn't want to return to that place he's supposed to call home. The only downside to it (well, there are several) is that, well... he's not the only one with a key.
So, when he wakes to the sound of somebody else stepping into the office, Jefferson's not quite as put-together as he usually is. Sprawled out on the couch with a crochet blanket half on him and half on the floor, he's got on a New Kids on the Block shirt (which isn't his; some employee left it behind) and a pair of black boxer-briefs. And that's it. His hair's a mess, he's got some scruff on his face, and his neck's actually bare for once, revealing a thin, angry scar that goes all the way around.
He clearly isn't at his best.
With a groan, he rubs his eyes and sits up, looking at the man with bleary eyes, which suddenly widen with alarm. At first, he thinks it's an intruder, because who else even has a key to the shop? But then, as he tries to focus on the man before him, he remembers: Cassian. He works here, keeps the place from sinking. Relaxing, Jefferson offers a weary smile, feeling like a fool for even having a moment where he couldn't recognize the man. But then, he rarely feels as if his head's on straight these days. ]
Oh, it's fine. Business has been... [ Hang on, let him have a moment to yawn. ] slow lately. How're you feeling?
[ He sounds casual, curious, when he asks that, as if he doesn't find it alarming that several people have had accidents this week, just like he did a month ago...
More awake now and seeming to find some semblance of modesty, Jefferson belatedly reaches for the blanket and wraps it around himself. ]
And I'm fine. Why? Don't I look fine? [ DO YOU WANT TO ANSWER THAT HONESTLY, CASSIAN? ]
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So, when he wakes to the sound of somebody else stepping into the office, Jefferson's not quite as put-together as he usually is. Sprawled out on the couch with a crochet blanket half on him and half on the floor, he's got on a New Kids on the Block shirt (which isn't his; some employee left it behind) and a pair of black boxer-briefs. And that's it. His hair's a mess, he's got some scruff on his face, and his neck's actually bare for once, revealing a thin, angry scar that goes all the way around.
He clearly isn't at his best.
With a groan, he rubs his eyes and sits up, looking at the man with bleary eyes, which suddenly widen with alarm. At first, he thinks it's an intruder, because who else even has a key to the shop? But then, as he tries to focus on the man before him, he remembers: Cassian. He works here, keeps the place from sinking. Relaxing, Jefferson offers a weary smile, feeling like a fool for even having a moment where he couldn't recognize the man. But then, he rarely feels as if his head's on straight these days. ]
Oh, it's fine. Business has been... [ Hang on, let him have a moment to yawn. ] slow lately. How're you feeling?
[ He sounds casual, curious, when he asks that, as if he doesn't find it alarming that several people have had accidents this week, just like he did a month ago...
More awake now and seeming to find some semblance of modesty, Jefferson belatedly reaches for the blanket and wraps it around himself. ]
And I'm fine. Why? Don't I look fine? [ DO YOU WANT TO ANSWER THAT HONESTLY, CASSIAN? ]