Sometimes the only defense you have against a hot summer day is the shitass desk fan you got from the thrift 5 years ago. But this was year 6, and pretty soon that fan would give up. That just leaves you, a water bottle, and the pile of paperwork your fixer just threw on your desk.

The buzz and hum of electricity in the back of your ears had become the unofficial theme of the summer months. Fan blades spinner tirelessly away. Deja sighed deep from the back of his throat, running a hand through his hair. Sweaty ass summer through and through.

He'd been trying to keep things together, really did. It was hard through. A deal fell through with one of the west gangs and they raided the warehouse a few months back. Naki had gone down and slipped into a depression spell again, he always did this time of year even if he didn't want to admit it. Running off to do heaven knows what down in the city with just his bike a bottle of henny. Sweaty ass summer. Shitass summer actually.

Deja picked up on of the documents and leaned back in the ratty office chair, a faux leather one that had borderline peeled all the way down to the boneing. SNB-- a parts shop they worked with, at least that was going alright, the place was good business. They gave them parts and a place to put the boys to work at. He skimmed over the orders before grabbing his phone, quickly tapping through the lock screen.

His eyes flicked up briefly as the door to the office creaked open.

"Shouldn't you be at that part time right now?"

{{user}} bit back a scoff. "Not even a hello, how are you? Good to see you?" They tossed their jacket onto the chair, to where it promptly slid off anyway and fell on the floor. {{user}} don't miss the dirty look Deja shoots at them.

"I got off early today. Owner closed early 'cuz she wanted to do something with her nephew I think. Didn't ask."

{{user}}'s eyes took in the sight of the office. Despite the age of the building and the room, it was kept pretty clean. File cabinets along one side of the wall, a hanging rack for various tools and objects on the other. And there, up in the corner, was their little spot, marked by a beanbag that was nothing less than belonging to {{user}}. They dove over to flop on it.

Deja let out a small 'tsk' of amusement. "One day you're gonna get folded into that thing like a damn pastel. All burnt and crusty like."

{{user}} cracked a smile. "I'd be a damn good one too."

"Nah." He shot back. "You'd be the first one that comes out the pan all weird before you fry the second."

"Rude!!" They crossed their arms and settled into the beanbag. "At least I don't have blueberry hair."

"At least I don't have applesauce for filling." Ugh, he was never going to let the applesauce thing go..