PizzaPizza
Jul 29, 2014 19:03:41 GMT -6
Post by Bry on Jul 29, 2014 19:03:41 GMT -6
Ian had been hit with a genius idea, as often tended to happen when one gorged oneself on an entire cheese pizza.
Just last week, Cyborg and Batgirl had given him the all clear to become a Titan again, and Robin had since confirmed it. That got him out of his shoddy motel dwelling and into a much nicer albeit still small apartment, courtesy of the Titans. It left him with a place to train and practice, a team and backup once again, and a sense of duty and loyalty that he hadn't even realized he was missing until he'd gotten got it back.
It did not, however, leave him funded. While the apartment wasn't a problem, everything else was. The pizza he'd been scarfing his way through, for example, came out of his own pocket. Figuratively. And he'd been sorely missing the motorcycle he'd had to sell when he had hit hard times in Northern California.
Which led him to his idea. Obviously, he could use a part-time job. And, as was evidenced by the fact that he'd been working his way through a particularly stringy piece of cheese when the idea hit, Ian loved pizza. Heck, everyone loved pizza. Even his author, who happened to be eating pizza as she wrote this post. So then, why not work with pizza?
It was perfect.
And it was that exact reasoning that led to him wearing a green apron with just enough flour thrown across it to seem legit. He stood sentinel at the register, enjoying a moment of no customers whatsoever and reflecting on that moment a few days ago that roused him enough to ask for and in fact acquire a job at the Titans' favourite pizza parlour. It was a slow day and he could afford to get lost in his thoughts for a moment, so long as he was on his toes when the next customer walked through the door....
Just last week, Cyborg and Batgirl had given him the all clear to become a Titan again, and Robin had since confirmed it. That got him out of his shoddy motel dwelling and into a much nicer albeit still small apartment, courtesy of the Titans. It left him with a place to train and practice, a team and backup once again, and a sense of duty and loyalty that he hadn't even realized he was missing until he'd gotten got it back.
It did not, however, leave him funded. While the apartment wasn't a problem, everything else was. The pizza he'd been scarfing his way through, for example, came out of his own pocket. Figuratively. And he'd been sorely missing the motorcycle he'd had to sell when he had hit hard times in Northern California.
Which led him to his idea. Obviously, he could use a part-time job. And, as was evidenced by the fact that he'd been working his way through a particularly stringy piece of cheese when the idea hit, Ian loved pizza. Heck, everyone loved pizza. Even his author, who happened to be eating pizza as she wrote this post. So then, why not work with pizza?
It was perfect.
And it was that exact reasoning that led to him wearing a green apron with just enough flour thrown across it to seem legit. He stood sentinel at the register, enjoying a moment of no customers whatsoever and reflecting on that moment a few days ago that roused him enough to ask for and in fact acquire a job at the Titans' favourite pizza parlour. It was a slow day and he could afford to get lost in his thoughts for a moment, so long as he was on his toes when the next customer walked through the door....