<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/de/46/00/de460000d103b2a84c5891d8aeb1819e.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Wyatt Colton Faulkner (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12370769#msg12370769)<br/><strong>City | Date | Time:</strong>St. Cloud, Minnesota | I-Hop | January 2014 | 11:30 p.m.<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Silky Levres (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12373275#msg12373275)<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Another day, Another dollar<br/><hr/><br/><em>How would you describe it?</em><br/><br/>The question stood at the tip of his tongue, threatening to force itself into existence, when she rebuffed the more traditional term given to those within her profession. He did not dare speak it, realizing he had overstepped his bounds about a million times within their conversation. Still, the photographer, within him, sought to capture the truth, vulnerable and oftentimes ugly, rather than the battered but resilient exterior. Silky was not one of his projects and he would not treat her as such, doing so would only result in her being creeped out by him.<br/><br/>Wyatt retreated from her after he slid the plate of steaming breakfast food onto the table, heading back to position himself atop one of the empty wooden stools nearest to the kitchen. He mostly fiddled with his phone, playing Candy Crush and failing miserably, as he kept a somewhat attentive eye on the store. The night continued to be a dead one with customers more immersed in each other than intent on constantly beckoning him over to refill their half emptied cups.<br/><br/>Though he could feel the brute force of her eyes upon him, Wyatt intentionally kept his gaze away, glancing in every direction but hers. The minutes ticked by slowly before one of his co-workers ambled through the door, bringing the winter chill in with them. He then headed over to clock out for the night, suddenly feeling the weight of his exhaustion upon his shoulders, and also grabbed his winter coat. Before he abandoned the restaurant, he made a quick detour over to Silky’s table. Silence permeated between them.<br/><br/><em>Say something.<br/> <br/>Anything.</em><br/><br/>“How m-much?” He blurted out the question, a little too loudly, and consequently the little amount of people within the restaurant turned in his direction.<br/><br/><em>Couldn't think of any better way, could you?</em>He wanted to melt into the floor.<br/><br/>“I mean, do you want to come home with me? Just to hang out and stuff. You don't have to! I mean, I d-don't really have much. A few movies. Maybe even some board games.”<br/>