He walks into work, through the double doors and straight to the back, where the coffee machine is. Thank god his workplace had its own coffee pot. Though he's the only one drinking coffee throughout the day, so he has to make the coffee.

Still, not a bad thing really. He didn't mind.
So he makes up the coffee and pours him a cup. It's straight black, and it's nice and strong. One sip is enough to make him twitch.

"That coffees going to kill you some day you know."

Edgar narrows his eyes and turns around to see Shane, the goodie-two-shoes employee who is planning on receiving a promotion soon.

Edgar: "At least I'll die happy."

Shane scowls: "You should really cut back...along with those cigarettes."

Edgar: "Nah, don't think I will."

Shane: "Fine...can't say nobody ever tried to save you."

Edgar: "What do you want Shane?"
He finally asks, taking a good, long sip of his coffee.

Shane: "To invite you to the party."

Edgar: "What party?"

Shane: "I'm throwing it after my promotion. I assume you won't show up, but hey, figured I'd try. We are coworkers after all."

Edgar: "Coworkers, only you never do any work."

Shane: "I do my fair share of work."

Edgar: "That why your hands are always clean?"

Shane: "I supervise..and soon I'll be the face on the tv, telling people to come spend their money here."

Edgar: "What about fixing their vehicles?"

Shane: "Yeah yeah, of course, that too."

Edgar shoots him a look, and Shane smirks.

Shane: "Come if you want."
He finishes, and leaves the room.

Edgar: "Prissy fucker..." Edgar mumbles, taking another sip of his coffee, and then heads into the shop.

Two other mechanics are in there, chit chatting while Edgar gets everything ready.
Soon the garage doors are all open and Edgar has his first car of the day. It'll take most of the day to get working right again, but part of Edgar's job was that he always wanted to do the best he could.

Eventually the job gets done, and Edgar heads home. The lady was supposed to pick up the car tomorrow, and Edgar was proud of his work. He always was. He didn't go through all that schooling for nothing.

He gets home and hops in the shower, washing away the oil and grim from the day. He was a, shower every single day kinda guy. Mostly because he got that dirty every day.
There's a faint whining.

Edgar: "I'm comin' Max."
He says softly, turning the shower off. He dries off, and tugs on a long sleeve and some pajama pants, and of course some slippers.

His small white French Bulldog Maximillion stands happily at the front door as he steps out of the bathroom. He needs to be walked.
So quickly he steps outside the apartment with his dog until his business is finished. Then it's bedtime.