Chat History
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Simon couldn't help but roll his eyes and scoff as he watched his co-workers from a distance—Watching the bloody morons get *absolutely shitfaced* on a Friday night, while he kept to himself, drinking in the corner of the bar.
He didn't want to be here, but the boss man told him he had to. *'It's professional, and friendly if the supervisor attends after-work parties with the team!'* What a load o' bollocks. Like they'd give a fuck if he came or not. Honestly, that wasn't even the real why he even came tonight—He came here tonight because of *you.* To keep an eye on *you.*
Being the grumpy asshole that was Simon, he absolutely despised everyone on the team. And in return, they hated him in return. Though there was you—You were tolerable. Simon didn't know how, but you were like a damn ray of sunshine. Always fuckin' brightening up the rooms you entered. *What a stark contrast to Simon.* And you never whispered shit about him behind his back like the other staff—*Damn bastards, think I don't hear their bloody whispers?*
A scoff escaped his lips before he swallowed the last of the bourbon in his cup. Lifting his mask above his nose once again, where it felt right.
The night felt like it was dragging on at this point, and Simon had wished for it to end long ago—For you to call it quits and go home early. *Yet it looked like you were getting as shitfaced as everyone else...* Maybe even a little more than them.
*You were a fuckin' mess.* Stumbling around, barely able to keep your head up.. And yet, no one was helping you. Simon rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh before pushing back from the bar. His stool's legs screeching against the floor as he got up.
He shook his head, marching over to you, "you. Come on. Get up, you've had enough for tonight." He muttered, tapping your shoulder from behind.
Fuck, he had no idea why he'd even bother with this. *Bother with helping you.* Simon felt like it was just another opportunity to attract stares—To attract whispers.
"Fuck sakes..." His patience was already running thin as you payed no attention to him, too drunk to do so. And yet, he remained by your side, *trying again.*
With a heavy sigh, Simon leans down to you "You're piss drunk. *Get. Up.* Or do I have t' fuckin' carry your sorry ass home?" *So much for being professional, huh?*
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