Mitch eventually arrived back at half eleven, stepping off the empty bus and walking the short distance to his apartment block. He'd rented the third and top floor apartment that gave him a great view of the tiny pool on one side, that was in desperate need of a good scrubbing, and on the other side three large dumpsters which were filled with stained mattresses and rotting Chinese food.

It was relatively quiet compared to the previous night when there had been a number of youths dive bombing from the roof opposite him into the pool and playing very loud house music. Hopefully it was going to remain that way and Mitch was going to be able to get to sleep quickly; the thought of having to leave again in nine hours made in groan out loud as he reached the metal stairs.

In reply to his noise of complaint he suddenly heard a tiny little mew echo from the behind his neighbours trash can. Delaying his tiresome journey up the stairs some more, Mitch crouched down and held out his hand, trying to make himself look as non-threatening as possible.

"Hey boy," he cooed to the tiny hairless cat. "C'mon out, I'm not gonna hurt you." He rubbed his fingers together to try and attract the little guy over. After peering at him with big eyes for a few seconds, the cat let out another little mew and ran happily out to greet Mitch.

Mitch smiled widely as the hairless creature rubbed it's head against his legs, purring loudly. He'd never owned a pet growing up but could understand why people kept them around; they could be remarkably therapeutic during times of stress.

"I wonder where you live," he spoke again to the cat. He had been sitting outside Mitch's kitchen window the previous night, begging to be let in just to escape the riot occurring outside by the pool, and after it became clear he wasn't going to leave or shut up any time soon, Mitch had eventually relented and allowed the cat to spend the night sleeping next to him on his bed.

When his alarm had awoken him in the morning, the cat was long gone, presumably having exited through the bathroom window to the nearby tree branch sometime during the night. He hadn't expected to see him again, but now here he was, meowing at him at the bottom of the stairs.

Standing back up, Mitch made his way up these stairs, feeling his joints aching like a man three times his age and watching in surprise as the little grey cat ran up ahead of him and sat waiting outside his front door.

Oh no. We are not getting into that habit, Mitch thought. Didn't this cat have his own home to go to? Getting out his keys, he paused and looked down to the cat again, who was watching him eagerly. Mitch could work out exactly what his plan was.

Oh well, what harm can one more night do? Maybe the little guy really was homeless, he didn't have a collar or anything, but then he didn't think most cats did and he didn't look underfed. Still, he was asking very politely to be allowed in and Mitch didn't want to offend anyone else today.

"Well I'm gonna need to give you a name if you're staying the night again." Calling it "you" wasn't going to cut it.

"What do you look like little one?" he asked the cat, who had began pawing at his door, in case his intentions weren't clear enough.

"Felix?" No, that would make him think of PewDiePie. "Shadow?" Nah...too common for an uncommon looking cat such as this one.

What would I have called my cat if I was allowed one as a kid? He remembered he always had a few in mind just incase his father actually bought him a kitten for Christmas. Yeah...there was Artemis if it was a girl...and Wyatt if it was a boy.

Yeah that'll do, he thought as he unlocked the door. Besides, he looks like a Wyatt, Mitch decided as the tiny thing scampered between his legs and trotted off into his living room with his tail held proudly in the air. Well at least one of us approves of this place.

Stepping through his front door he was immediately reminded just how bare his new home was. He had yet to unpack most of his belongings and there were cardboard boxes just piled up in every corner. Shoving the door shut as gently as he could so as not to damage it any more, he kicked off his shoes and made his way to the kitchen when all of a sudden his eyes were drawn to something truly horrible.

Oh God, the colour! Mitch couldn't believe he'd forgotten the worst feature of his apartment; the disgusting golden brown wallpaper that covered every room, making him feel like he was living in some sort of bee hive.

He just counted his blessings he wasn't ill because he would surely be throwing up every time he looked at a wall. As soon as he got some free time at the weekend that was all coming down and he would take great pleasure in it.

Grabbing some hot pockets out of the freezer, something that he found almost as embarrassing as having to get a bus to work, and turning his oven on to pre-heat it, he quickly splashed some cold water on his face to try and keep himself awake for now. Meanwhile, the newly named cat jumped up onto the table and began rolling around, bringing a small smile to the man's face.

Once the oven was hot enough he popped the two Philly Steak monstrosities in and hoped they wouldn't taste has bad as he expected them to. Really, he didn't want to be eating at this time at all but he was absolutely starving, having had nothing since breakfast that morning. Naively he had thought there would be time to get a decent meal during a work break. One problem there: he hadn't had a break.

Kevin had told him that most of the chef's stocked up on food during the morning, when there were fewer guests and taking breaks were more feasible, and also kept themselves going with small snacks throughout the day. However between five and nine - what might be the preferred times for taking a break in a working day as long as his - it was rare for any of them to stop. It wasn't that they weren't allowed, it was just they didn't want to get out of their rhythm that Mitch had yet to build up. Then they would just have a smaller meal on the way or at their homes, in order to get to bed as quickly as possible.

Mitch was definitely going to have to stock up on high energy food on his way in tomorrow, otherwise he could see himself falling headfirst, asleep into the frying pan.

On the other hand, despite everything else, Mitch had definitely gained a new found respect for the people in the culinary world. People complaining about working a nine till five job seemed like nothing compared to the twelve, thirteen hour shifts these guys put in everyday. Some of the guys, including Scott and Avi, worked seven days a week as well, the restaurant still having need for it's more skilled staff when Mitch's role could be replaced by high school students, although it was only open for the evenings at the weekend.

While those delicious Hot Pockets were cooking, Mitch went through the arduous task of setting up his TV, heaving the black screen out of it's respective cardboard box and struggling with it to the small table in the corner of the living room. Settling himself down on the lumpy couch, he flicked through the channels before settling on a documentary on the band Queen. He wasn't the biggest fan but his choice had been rather limited at this time of day. There was no way he was going to watch Fox News.

He smiled again as Wyatt - he was really getting used to that - jumped up next to him and began kneading on Mitch's leg, making himself comfortable so he could settle down, and when his food was ready he ate it in record time and hopped up get in the shower so fast that he sent the cat flying to the floor.

Now lying in bed at half twelve, he shut his eyes, trying his best to get to sleep straight away. It didn't work though, his mind still active even though his body had broken down a long while back.

The young man wondered if his father had thought much about him since he left. He expected he had, probably in distaste and disappointment, and Mitch couldn't blame him if he had. Although he had shouted and raged at his father before he left, Mitch knew the man hadn't done anything wrong in firing him. He could barely keep someone around, even if that employee was his only son, when so many other's had lost their job over his mistake.

I would be ashamed to have me as a son too. That was all he was ever going to be really, just a shadow in his father's image, never able to live up to the man himself. He had travelled across the whole country in some bitter attempt to make his own name for himself, only to realise he had no actual plan and that it was impossible to get another job in business when you had a track record like his.

If he were being honest, he would love to just pack up his things and head straight back home; do anything to get back into his father's good graces. He just wasn't cut out for this sort of...not very privileged life, no matter how tough and unaffected he had tried to act today, he was upset with himself and his situation. He missed his old home, his old job, even his old fake friends.

Just like Danny at work, what Mitch projected and what he actually felt were often two very different things.

Then again, if he was thinking about people not being just what you see on the surface, then there was one man above all the others who defined the meaning of a mystery for Mitch. When Scott had first entered extremely loudly today he had reminded Mitch a lot of the college frat boys who he had avoided as much as possible during his course. Obnoxious and dumb.

But over the course of that day it had become clear the blond knew what he was doing, and that he was well respected, able to sort out any issue quickly and calmly and keeping everyone in high spirits.

Mitch could almost forgive him for calling him out to tell that ill-fated joke. Almost.

There was also the matter of this Kirstie, someone who Mitch had been entirely uninterested in when Avi had been talking non-stop about her; but when Scott had started referring to her in a very ambiguous manner he had become curious. Who exactly was this girl?

He only had very few facts to go on so far. One: she was most likely very pretty, at least by Avi's standards, although that didn't exactly help him much. Two: she was someone Scott had to impress. Three: she was part of some bigger organisation or "entity" as Scott had called it. And four: she had apparently persuaded Scott to take out health insurance, something the blond was very grateful for.

Could she be a nurse? Has Scott got some unknown illness that is not visible just looking at him? And wasn't there something about a fitting? As far as Mitch could tell, the other man was perfectly fit and healthy, if a little crazy in the head, but then all of them at Mestizo's were.

I'm going to need to hire a psychiatrist as soon as possible if I hope to stay sane, he thought wistfully. After I've fixed up the apartment. And bought a car.

Whatever happened, Mitch knew he was going to have to step up his game tomorrow, and this time he wasn't going to be afraid to stick up for himself when the others treated him unfairly. He guessed he had Scott to thank for giving him so ammunition to fight back, even if the idea of a games night amongst three grown men entertained him greatly.

He also tried to think up a few smart come backs of his own that would both impress and make his co-workers laugh, but before he could make up any, his mind had wandered too far, and he was asleep.