i like the snake on your tattoo

Annabelle took a drag of her cigarette, her lips painted a dark red as she rushed to her job. It wasn't anything important, nothing in her life was important as she tried to ignore the way the biting cold entered through the holes in her nonslip shoes. She worked at a dingy diner, where no one of importance ever came and she was forced to bite her tongue as drunken men often called her baby. It was poison, hearing those words come of some drunk's mouth. There was only bitter thoughts of a man who shared the same light blue eyes as her, the man who left her behind to grow up with her crackhead mother and younger siblings. Everyday was a struggle, but she survived it without much complaint.

Entering the diner, she was glad that the heater off to the corner decided it wanted to work. There was a chill that crept down her spine, pulling her jacket closer to herself. Hurriedly, she went to the time-punch because there was never a day that she was battling with being late. There was no other options for her, forced to have to work twelve hour shifts from seven to seven which hardly gave her enough time to pull her youngest sister's hair back into a ponytail.

"Hey Jeremy," she called to the cook, watching as he flipped a pancake bitterly. Anna was just glad that someone else other than herself hated working there with as much passion. "Maybe today will be the day that the money you put towards lotto tickets will actually come through, ya think?"

The grunt she got in return was all she needed before she playfully nudged his shin. He would have probably denied the ghost of a smile, but she wasn't there to care about what he did. Walking back into the dining area, she watched as plenty of the other waitresses walked around with coffee stained aprons and frantic looks. No one was happy here, it blew. Instead of worrying about that, she walked over to the hostess station, checking to see where her section would be. All she could do was wait to start serving a customer who came through.

Benjamin was used to upscale restaurants where the staff catered to his every whim, afraid of upsetting a man of such wealth. With wealth, power accompanied it. That was the way the world was, it had always been that way. From the dawn of humanity, those with wealth were looked up to with almost a perverse sort of adoration. He was used to it and it didn't normally get to him, it didn't normally matter one way or another but there were times when even hew grew tired of how he was treated. He had built himself into what he was and there were the occasions when he simply needed that sort of almost annoyed, rude service you may get at the diners that drew not so desirable crowds.

After an exhaustive week of work, Benjamin was a bit relieved to be able to step away from the office for the day. He had his secretary fielding calls and emails, he would return them the following day. He followed his usual routine, knowing full well that he had to keep himself going even if he had the day away from the office. Waking up early, Benjamin hit his in house gym before taking a shower and tossing on a casual outfit (at least for him) of a pair of dark jeans and a button down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his tattoos and his hair was left to do whatever it decided to. Benjamin didn't quite care about his hair, he didn't need to be as presentable as he regularly was required to be.

Heading to a local diner that he always drove by but had yet to stop at, Benjamin drove an all black 1965 Ford Mustang. He had updated a few things in the vehicle like the radio and the air conditioning system but little else, enjoying the old school feel. Parking near the entrance of the diner, Benjamin wasted no time in heading inside. He lingered for a moment by the host stand, his hands shoved into his pockets. The comforting noise of orders being taken, the sound of coffee being made, and even a few words from the kitchen was already enough to ease his tension. Benjamin had started his business in a diner similar to this one, they had an almost sentimental value to him.