The bar was, as always, was near full. People, in small groups or by themselves, sat scattered among the many tables and booths. A thick amount of chatting filled the air, but one voice cut through all of them like a knife.
"...so I said, 'Steve, are you really that stupid? Alpacas don't fly; llamas do!', so Steve said--Hey, Izak? Hey. Are you even listening to me?"
Izak gritted his teeth in annoyance as he was forced to listen to his fellow bartender, Henry, rant on and on. It was a plain out miracle that he hadn't gone mad yet. The only reason he was the only one serving drinks with the nincompoop were because the other workers were too lazy to move their own asses, the manager was a complete asshole who didn't really care who he hired, and that Izak needed the money. Desperately. Though the more the idiot talked to Izak, the more appealing the option of quitting became.
"Henry," Izak began as he set his gaze in his overzealous companion. His voice disturbingly calm, though His hate filled eyes betrayed his serene facade. He leaned on the counter of the bar and crossed his arms. "I am going to be honest with you. Totally, completely honest. I. Freaking. Hate. You. The amount of hate I have for you is so much that if we were the only two people alive in this world, I would promptly jump off a cliff. So just SHUT UP and LEAVE ME ALONE."
Henry closed his mouth, a hurt expression on his face. "...Jeez, I was just trying to make a conversation. Everyone's right. You are a dick." He shook his head and turned away to serve a newly arrived trio of customers.
Ivan shrugged. He was used to being called that. In fact, he was called much worse. And frankly, he absolutely didn't care. Not at all.