do you guys think scaras handwriting would be neat or messy?
to me, he has always come off as a perfectionist, so I feel like that would definitely apply to his handwriting as well. like ik his penmanship is crazy. maybe a little too crazy. sometimes he gets carried away with trying to make his letters pretty that they're almost unintelligible type of crazy, and he would hate you for not being able to read it but it's literally not your fault that he's tryharding (yes it is. why else do you think he would put extra care than usual into his handwriting when it's only meant for you to read?).
he doesn't want his letters to look like slop but he accidentally overdoes it, which does look pretty at first glance, but then you actually try to read it and there's too many loops, it's a bit messy and a little too slanted. there are imperfections in his perfectionism and it's something he hates but it's so endearing that you can't help but laugh a little, to which he promptly sighs and mumbles little jabs at you (that he really doesn't mean, but you already know that), before he begrudgingly takes the paper from your hands and reads it to you in slight embarrassment.
and you really can't complain because there's nothing more comforting than the soft sound of his smooth voice :)
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EVERYBODY shut the fuck up. coffee shop barista au. soap is a barista and this one guy comes in at the same time on the dot every day and orders the same thing every time. (its straight black coffee with so much added caffeine that soap thinks it could kill a horse.) the man is like, 6′4″ and built like a brick house. soap is a pretty big guy himself, but god does he makes him look tiny.
his hair is blond, light enough that in some lighting it looks nearly silver. it seems to be a mess constantly- wavy locks that curl around the tips of his ears, fringe just long enough to partially cover one of his eyes. just long enough that someone could reach up and tuck it behind his ear. and soap wants to, if not just to get to feel his hair- it looks so fucking soft and smooth and soap wonders what his hair care routine is. (because surely you cant get hair that good without putting work into it, right?)
his upper face is littered with scars; over the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks, under his eye. theres probably more, but anytime he shows up he has a face mask on, one with some dumb skeleton design on it that would probably look stupid on anyone else, but somehow he makes it work.
and his eyes- god, his eyes. his left eye is a brilliant shade of blue with a shock of green at the bottom, something soap has never seen before. the two colors seem to clash and meld together all at once, an enchanting phenomenon that soap wants to study. his right eye is a deep, gorgeous chocolate brown, swirled with a lighter caramel tone that brightens his eye but makes his gaze no less intense. anytime he locks eyes with soap, he loses his breath- hes never seen someone so fucking beautiful in his entire life.
his voice is low and gravelly, a deep, accented rumble that soap swears to god he can feel in his bones. the man doesnt mince his words, but every time he does speak soap can feel himself shiver. he hopes it isnt visible.
the only name he gives for his order is ghost. that isnt enough for soap. he wants his first name- his real name, a name he can place to the beautiful face that lurks in his mind. (and in his sketchbooks.)
so he tries to pry it out of the man. he offers his own name first, john mactavish, but ghost doesnt give him his own name, instead opting nod and hum. he takes to calling soap ‘johnny’, something that soap has notably refused to let anyone call him, no matter how close they are. he allows ghost to call him it, finding the heat it spreads through his body pleasant and welcoming it. gaz, his fellow barista, is disgruntled when he finds out that soap is letting someone call him johnny when he was firmly denied the permission to do so himself.
every day soap asks for a name for the coffee, hoping that one day he’ll slip and tell him, but he never does. its always ghost, you know this, johnny. he keeps trying despite the ineffectiveness.
sometimes he throws out guesses. over time they get increasingly ridiculous, trying to get a huff or a snort out of the man when he looks at his cup. whatever name he chooses is accompanied by some shitty dad joke- one time ghost had told one that was god awful, but soap could see the glee in his eyes when he groaned and complained. he sees ghost look at the writing everytime he hands over the drink, and he adores the amusement he sees dancing in his gaze at the jokes, so he keeps it up.
their banter shifts from friendly teasing to flirting constantly- oftentimes mid-conversation. sometimes its soap who does it, (”the maaask... take it off?” “show my face?” “yes.” “no.” “are you ugly?” “quite the opposite.” “i doubt that.”) and other times its ghost. (”you like tequila?” “could use one right about now.” “id murder for a whiskey.” “you mean scotch?” “i drink bourbon.” “like a good ol’ boy...” “... i love kentucky.” “yer out o’ yer mind, ghost.” “thats for sure.”)
(gaz is this fucking close to complaining to price about the sexual tension around them. if he has to deal with soap making eyes at this customer for one more fucking minute he thinks hes going to snap.)
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