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Post by TOBIAS DARYLL CORTINI on Oct 2, 2010 19:02:09 GMT -5
 Being one of the youngest in the pack had its perks. He could live an almost normal life, while still tending to his duties as the Scout. No one really bothered him and his detached behavior actually made him more likable. He clocked in for the day and moved into the back of the bakery, starting on his specialty: the Garibaldi. They were very popular back in London, but they were starting to gain fame in Mercy as Toby's "squashed flies." He moved towards the sink and pulled up the sleeves of his shirt, noticing the bruises and bite marks adorning his skin. He was a fighter, the closest to a fight club member out of the pack, and he never backed down. Especially not from a certain a vampire with a similar job to his: spying.
Toby played it off like he was just your average rebel. His skateboard was his usual method of travel and his hair sometimes fell into his eyes in an unkempt way. He didn't mind. After washing his hands, he got started on the biscuits. Particles from the flour drifted about, powdering his nose and his cheeks. It was messy, but it was fun. Not a lot of people appreciated the art of baking. Live on your own for a few weeks though and you'll see just how handy it can be. "Hey, Tobes! Man the register, I'm going out for a smoke," the manager called out to him, making him shrug as he used a towel to wipe off the flour, missing the spot on his nose.
Standing behind the register, the lycan shook some of his hair out of his eyes, before shoving his hands into his pockets. It was almost time for breakfast, so the morning regulars would be stopping by any moment. Sometimes his job was shit, just standing around and taking orders. But Toby picked up on a lot just by what people ate. Sometimes he could guess their personalities and backstory, like if they were trying to cheat death by choosing a "healthier" selection or going for the kill with a sugary overdose.
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