[hr][center][color=teal][h1]Conn McReid[/h1][/color][/center]
[center][img]http://data.whicdn.com/images/101855469/original.jpg[/img][/center][hr]
"What kind of bar opens at ten-in-the-goddamn-morning?" Conn asked himself as he ran a hand through his hair. His dirty mirror showed him to be what he was. Tired. He'd slept in until ten, which is more than could be said for most of the working population of the Island, but he'd stayed up until four. Such was life. Stay up late, have a blast, wake up hating life, rinse and repeat. It suited him fine. 

He threw on an old Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt from high school that was maybe just a bit too small. A pair of thrift-store jeans that were maybe a size too big, but well secured with a belt. A pair of new, but off-brand converse. He looked himself over in the mirror. 

[i]God[/i], He thought, cringing. [i]I look like a high schooler that's trying way too hard to be cool.[/i] 

But he didn't change. Instead, he raced out of his apartment, once he'd seen the clock. The elevator was still out, as it had been for close to eight months. So, he bounded down the stairs, instead. He got to the front of the building, thanking God and his older brother's gym membership card that he wasn't out of breath yet. He scrambled to get the keys for his bike lock out of his pocket. Once he did, he swung his leg over the mountain bike and shoved the lock into his backpack. He pedaled as hard as he could, and arrived outside the bar in what must have been record time. He locked up his bike, turned on his heel, and threw open the door. He ran into the kitchen, tossed his backpack on the floor and pulled out his apron. Once he had that securely on, he clocked in, right as the clock struck ten. 

[hr]

"Order of chicken wings!" One of the waiters called back into the kitchen.

"On it!" Connor called back, gathering up everything he needed with a smile. Say one thing for Connor McReid, say he's a good cook. Within a few minutes, the chicken strips were done and plated. He walked out into the main part of the bar, and smiled wider when he saw who had ordered the chicken. He set it down in front of her. "Well, well. If it isn't my favorite local club singer." He grinned, toothily. "How we doing today, Ash?"