All Day, Every Day (Elyse)
Oct 2, 2013 19:36:27 GMT -5
Post by Alista Sabina Castillo on Oct 2, 2013 19:36:27 GMT -5
Evening had fallen, and Alista was utterly exhausted. She had spent all day running around to various places, submitting job applications every-fucking-where - everything from food service to retail to sex work, she had looked into it and at least inquired for more information. There was one more stop she had to make - the 24-hour diner in the club district. It would be hard not to stop and grab a bite as well, since she really couldn't afford it at that moment. God, she just wanted to go to her apartment and pass out, and eat, and sleep, and eat, and sleep.
She wearily pushed open the door to the diner and walked up to the currently-empty bar, waiting for the waiter/waitress/non-binary-waitstaff/whatever to come up so she could ask for an application. The smell of food wafted around her, tormenting her empty stomach and tired bones with the thought of food. Alista took a seat, hoping her stomach would shut up, and adjusted her posture to try and look more professional or whatever. God, she looked like a mess, didn't she? She straightened her jacket and tried to fix her windswept hair, running her fingers through the tangled mess in an attempt to tame it.
Her mind briefly flashed back to the brothel she had visited earlier. Would she have it in her to work there, if that's what it came to? She had heard so many different things about sex work - that it was empowering, that it was soul-crushing, and everywhere in between. She didn't know what to think. Alista had caught sight of a few of the workers, and had briefly spoken to one.
Alista tried to put it out of her mind. It wasn't a guarantee that it would even come up, right? She stopped fixing her hair and looked up, waiting on the waitstaff.
She wearily pushed open the door to the diner and walked up to the currently-empty bar, waiting for the waiter/waitress/non-binary-waitstaff/whatever to come up so she could ask for an application. The smell of food wafted around her, tormenting her empty stomach and tired bones with the thought of food. Alista took a seat, hoping her stomach would shut up, and adjusted her posture to try and look more professional or whatever. God, she looked like a mess, didn't she? She straightened her jacket and tried to fix her windswept hair, running her fingers through the tangled mess in an attempt to tame it.
Her mind briefly flashed back to the brothel she had visited earlier. Would she have it in her to work there, if that's what it came to? She had heard so many different things about sex work - that it was empowering, that it was soul-crushing, and everywhere in between. She didn't know what to think. Alista had caught sight of a few of the workers, and had briefly spoken to one.
Alista tried to put it out of her mind. It wasn't a guarantee that it would even come up, right? She stopped fixing her hair and looked up, waiting on the waitstaff.
