Swiping item after item at 11:00 pm should get to you. But as run-down as this guy is, his clothes don't reflect it. After 12 hours behind the checkout lane, with the smell of the dusty, spilled-beer-and-milk coated belt the norm in his nose, his tie is still creased perfectly and snapped tight with a cravat. His slacks are pressed to a point that could cut through oak branches. His shoes are slightly scuffed, but still shined from the morning.
He looks like he could go on non-stop. Even with a scowl on his face and a mean look darting above the bags of his eyes, he's completely ready for anything that will come his way tonight, be it just a few drinks at the bar, meeting royalty, or the apocalypse.
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