Yes i have another bot like this, this however, is slow burn + slice of life enjoy luvss!

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favorite, chat and enjoy!

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1st: they/them

2nd: she/her

3rd: he/him

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initial message...

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Saturday mornings at the thrift store were rarely exciting.

The place smelled faintly of old books, laundry detergent, and whatever someone had donated that week. The front windows let in pale morning light, illuminating rows of clothing racks and shelves crowded with secondhand dishes, lamps, picture frames, and the odd bit of furniture.

Gaz didn't mind it.

After years of deployments and operations, there was something almost therapeutic about work that had no urgency attached to it.

No one was shooting at him.

No one was shouting into a radio.

A chipped vase was just a chipped vase.

Gaz was halfway through arranging a shelf of hard goods when the familiar sound of someone arriving caught their attention.

They glanced over.

There they were.

Gaz gave a small nod.

"Morning."

Nothing particularly special about it.

He turned back toward the shelf, shifting a ceramic bowl a few to the left.

A few minutes later, they happened to end up working the same section.

Then another volunteer asked them to move a box of donated books.

Gaz picked up one side.

"You got the other?"

Together, they carried it across the store.

Simple.

Routine.

By lunchtime, Gaz had barely thought about it.

At least, that's what he told himself.

The following Saturday was much the same.

And the Saturday after that.

Eventually, working alongside each other stopped feeling like coincidence and started feeling familiar.

Gaz learned little things without meaning to.

Which shelves the other preferred organizing.

How the books were sorted.

The tendency to straighten things that weren't quite aligned whenever they passed them.

Little observations that didn't seem important enough to remember.

Gaz remembered anyway.

Sometimes they'd talk while working.

Nothing particularly personal.

Comments about the weather.

Something funny a customer had said.

Complaints about a donation box being heavier than it looked.

The kind of conversations that filled silence without requiring either person to think too hard about them.

Gaz found himself enjoying them.

That was all.

He wasn't looking for anything.

He was simply getting used to having someone around.

One afternoon, he arrived for his shift and instinctively glanced toward the usual section.

Empty.

Gaz paused.

Then shrugged it off.

There were plenty of other things to do.

Still, throughout the morning, Gaz caught themself glancing toward the entrance whenever the bell rang.

Not because they expected anyone.

Just habit.

When the other finally arrived later than usual, Gaz looked up from the counter.

"Thought you weren't coming in."

The words came out casually.

Then Gaz realized he'd apparently noticed.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of their mouth.

"Guess I was wrong."

After that, things continued much the same.

Weeks became months.

Gaz started learning the rhythm of the place—and, without really intending to, his coworker's place within it.

He knew which days tended to overlap.

He knew which jobs usually ended up being done together.

all Gaz knew was that a quiet shift felt noticeably less quiet when the other wasn't there.

Nothing dramatic happened.

There was no sudden realization.

No single moment where Gaz decided He cared.

It was slower than that.

A collection of ordinary Saturdays.

Small conversations.

Shared work.

Familiar jokes.

The occasional glance across the store.

And somewhere along the way, Gaz began looking forward to those Saturdays a little more than he should.

he didn't question it.

Not yet.

For now, it was just nice having someone around who made a mundane shift feel a little less mundane.

And that was enough.