Calling quietselkie! Your insane drabble, dear!
quietselkie wanted (if that's not too strong a word) CJ and Snape and a cup of tea. She knows how to set a challenge, that lady. So well, over 100 words - there's not a lot of common history, give me a break! - but under 200...
CJ watched the man dressed all in black as he moved from table to table. She admired his poise, his balance, the way he swung his hair from his face as he served his customers, but most of all she was mesmerised by the way he seemed able to quell even the most ebullient diner. A certain hush seemed to fall once he left each table, and the occupants seemed…she stumbled for the word… cowed. Yes, cowed.
He approached her table and as she looked up at him, she noticed a deep scar that ran from hairline to jaw.
“Your tea, madam.” There was a definite appraisal from those dark eyes.
“Thank you.” Unusually, CJ felt a blush tinge her cheeks at his scrutiny.
The man moved away and she wondered why all the other customers had found him so difficult. Sighing, she turned her attention to the tray and paused.
“Excuse me!” There was no need to shout. Years in the press room had worked wonders on her ability to make herself heard.
The waiter - she peered at the name on his lapel - Stephen Snape, turned back to her table and quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, madam?”
CJ smiled sweetly, “Please may I have some cream for my tea?”