Early Morning Run [morning/work]

Having classes start a little later on occasion did have its benefits. Meant he could get in a few work hours before the sun got up too high. His eyes darted between the few people that were on the move at the time, his hair and the sleeves of his shirts fluttering in the oncoming wind.

Gozai would reach his destination soon enough, and he dismounted his bike, leaning it against the wall. The youth would reach into the bag containing his books, notes, and other school paraphernalia, and pulled out a bike lock, securing it to his bike.With that done, he would step through the door of the building he'd parked in front of without knocking.

"Sorry, but we're sti- Oh, Gozai, it's you." The voice of a man spoke out, the youth raising his eyes to meet those of his employer. He was maybe in his mid-thirties, a man with a thick but well-trimmed, dark brown beard, and short, similarly pigmented hair. He'd taken good care of his body, muscle definition showing through his clothing. "Good morning Mr. Richards, I don't have class for a few hours, so I thought I might as well make some use of the time. Anything that needs delivering? Or did Mike already come in?" He would speak to the older man in a low voice.

"Your timing isn't all that bad in that case. Mike called in sick about an hour ago, said he'd gotten a stomach bug from some dodgy sushi or the like. And since Rufus is still on vacation for the rest of the week, it'll be just the two of us today." The man would begin to explain as he seemed to be sorting through something behind the counter. "Would I be asking too much if you could pull a few hours of overtime today?" Mr. Richards would then ask, his attention now drawn downward, to whatever he was doing behind the counter.

Gozai would let out an audible hum, his hand coming up to his chin, to give that impression of pondering. "Sure, I guess I can do that. He would speak in reply after having weighed his option. On one han he was hardly in any more of a "people" mood then usual, but the way his stove had been acting up this past week did mean he kinda needed the extra pay...

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"I'll bring the bag back when I come in this afternoon." He called in through the door, almost immediately receiving a reply, but he was already clsong the door by then. The bag in question was another shoulder bag, son from a thick blue fabric, with the logo of the courier company embroidered boldly on the front flap. He had called out to his boss out of habit, but he'd been through this song and dance enough times to know it was okay if he didn't return the back until later.

Gozai would then move in to begin approaching the bike he'd left by the wall, raising the printed piece of paper he had clutched in one hand into view. There was a map printed in black-and-white, showing the optimal route for his delivery run, and under that were the addresses to which he had something. His free hand would reach down to fiddle with the lock as he folded up the paper, slipping the note into the pocket of his shirt. The lock snapped open with a click. He just hoped that the clients he was to visit would not be so... Aggravating as last time he'd gone to work early.

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Has chest would have, his breathing ragged as he ascended what by his count was the fuckteenth flight of stairs. Of course it just had to be one of the tallest buildings of his route where the broken elevator of the day had to be. His mind swam for ideas, for excuses to not deliver this thrice-damned parcel. After a time that felt like forever and then some, he would finally reach the floor he needed to be on. Red eyes scanned across the doors that lined the corridor, the youth actually needing to put in effort to keep his expression neutral.

Finding the correct door, he walked over with a few brisk steps, before taking a deep breath to steady himself. He'd just need to read out his spiel, make sure whatever jackass is claiming to be the recipient is actually the right guy, get some signatures, and get out. But a nice, deep breath just means this wouldn't turn into a case of assault if even one itty-bity detail went wrong. Another deep breath was drawn, before his hand rose up to knock the door.

There was some noise behind the door, and after a moment, it opened. The first thing that came to his attention was not who had opened the door, but the smell reeking out from behind it, alcohol, sweat, and something else, something even more repugnant. "Whaddayawant?" A voice slurred the words, and his attention was drawn to the speak, and older man, fat, in his late-forties probably. He wore nothing but underwear, and a pair of glasses that were tilted on his face.

"Good morning, I'm here on behalf of the Richards&Richards Courier Service, and I've a parcel for one Sean Roberts. Is he available?" Gozai would speak, trying and failing to give off a sunny disposition. The nigh-nude mountain of lard apparently had to take several seconds to process what he had to say, but thankfully paid no heed to the youth's almost unprofessional tone. "Uneminude..." The blob slurred, before stepping back in. Soon enough he could hear the same voice, much louder this time. Rob?.. Rob, ya limpficked mutherflucker, theresh shome kid at that door." The voice seized, though it was soon followed by the sound of something heavy crashing down.

After another moment, someone else came to the door, younger, maybe in his earlier twenties, asian man. "Sean Roberts?" Gozai asked, getting no reply beyond a nod. "Have you some form of ID on hand?" He would then ask the young man, who disappeared from the door. As he did, Gozai would take a moment to reach into his work bag, pulled out a small parcel and a clipboard. holding both in one hand. The asian man soon reappeared, driver's license in hand. "Thank you very much." Or so Gozai said, though his tone remained bereft of gratitude. A quick glance of the card over, looked good enough. HE handed the card back, before presenting the clipboard. "Okay, now  I'll just need your signature here, here, and here. Initials here, and... Date here." He instructed, trying his hardest to not sound bored. The man would take the clipboard, and spend a moment scribbling on it. He then gaze it back, and Gozai gave them man his parcel in turn.

"Thank you, and have a nice day." The albino spoke, flashing a big fake smile to the asian man, who closed the door without saying a word. Immediately that smile oozed away from his face, leaving an ugly scowl in its place. He turned to face the stare, scowl only deepening. At least the way down would be easier, but that hardly did much to improve his mood at the time. "Fuck me."