He saved her number as whatever she had written in the contact information and got back to what was going to be an extremely busy night. He could tell. He checked the cleaning supplies that were available, since for some reason the cleanliness of this bathroom was personal now. The supplies... Weren't great. So he left for a bit after also checking that what they were going to need most of all were new fucking pipes. PIPES. He almost had to open a hole in the wall before he found a different access that was left there to make fixing these kind of issues easier. Good. Thank god and whoever had fixed pipes in the Rusty Nail before Grisham. He who hadn't done it enough times to feel confident he'd fix the problem and not worsen it. But he also eh... Didn't think it could get MUCH worse.
And so he went shopping for the good industrial shit that was cheaper the more of it you bought. The products that could probably disintegrate flesh, and hopefully would be enough to deal with the grime at the bar. It was... An ordeal, he thanked the local deity again for his enhanced strength and once he returned, for his facemask.
At some point while he wiped, moped, scrubbed, bleached, found cement in pipes, stared at it in disbelief, inserted the new ones and tested how functional they were... His new soon to be boss, or so he hoped, left. He turned off the lights and closed up front, and be just left Grisham inside. At least he left the back door open, the keys were just hanging from the lock on the inside, Huh. This man truly gave no fucks, did he?. He would've questioned it more and harder if he didn't have so much left to do! He was on a roll, on fire, he may have made a pornstar martini or two for himself while he was at it. He didn't just get the bathrooms working, alright? He left the rest of the bar decently clean, found a family of rats in the vents that he promptly vacated. One of them was a bit bitey, but he healed pretty fast.
Evening turned to night, the sun came up and made it's way onto the sky. Grisham was going to nod off under a table (again) if he didn't catch some shut eye. He also desperately needed a shower and a change of clothes. So he closed up from the back at around 12 and went to find a nearby gym or pool he could shower in.
He yawned the entire way to his van, catching dirty looks and sneers. It was fucking rude, mind you, but he was fairly sure he looked like a stinky homeless bum. Then he got there and remembered that for once he was staying at a legit camping where they had facilities he could use. So he did! He did and he congratulated himself, in little whispers, a hundred times. It was probably a short lived delusion from the lack of sleep. He scared the reception staff a little bit when he passed them by, but... yeah, they had probably and hopefully seen worse shit. The shower did wonders, he could literally feel the dirt and grime that HE had accumulated, sliding off of his body. He almost fell asleep in the stall, resting his shoulder against the wall. It was a mistake to do that under the spray of warm water, so he left once he felt clean enough. Squeaky clean enough. He only half heartedly dried his hair with a towel and practically sleep walked to the van. Where he warmed up goopy oatmeal that had been left in the fridge with yogurt and milk overnight. He heated it until it was almost boiling, and ate half of it along with a raw sausage before he fell asleep, towel half on-half off.
When he woke up, he noticed that he had sent a message to Aimee. He didn't remember doing that, at all. But... Well. It was done, and it was harmless. The message was just a picture of the clean bathroom and one picture of a cement filled and corroded pipe. Just that. Nothing else. He'd deal with it later though, because it was half past two and he needed to get going if he was going to be at the bar before opening time. So he got dressed in very clean clothes. Military green cargos, a tank top and a lumberjack red and black shirt with boots. He grabbed the essentials and the keys to the back door, closed up and left. He arrived at the bar at ten to three, and started looking around to check if they had a coffee machine he could inject an overly sweet caffeinated drink into his veins from. The smell of bleach and disinfectant was oddly soothing, and he pushed any mid-clean streak flashbacks that threatened to invade his mind, AWAY.
