Claire likes working at the diner; she's not happy, but she's content, and she's learned not to ask for too much more. She notices the new guy in her section and comes wandering up immediately, nametag reading 'Sandra' (like it always will, if she has her way), skirt entirely too short, smile firmly in place. It's not fake at all. Today has been a pretty good day, so far.
"Hi! I'm Sandra, I'm gonna take care of you today--what can I getcha to start off with?" She tilts her head, clicking her pen in preparation for his drink order.
The accent is more pronounced than it used to be. Some of that is natural. Some of it isn't.
Content is probably better than a lot of people have it; West will never come to this sensible realization, or learn how to stop asking for anything less than happiness. Sardonic, snarky determination with a side of gallows humor is doing him for now, though.
He smiles back at her, a little rougher and not as easily as he did once, but this girl? In whatever universe, she has an amazing smile. "How's your coffee, Sandra?" The glance at her nametag is quick, perfunctory. "I'm gonna order it even if it tastes like axle grease, I just want to see if you'll tell me."
"It's not bad, but I tend to take it as 'sugar with a little coffee,' so..." She grins at him, leaning her hip on the booth chair opposing his. "Your menu iiiis--right here."
Claire hands one over, and goes to go retrieve some deliciously bad coffee.
All diner coffee is deliciously bad, and if the patrons are lucky, has roughly the same strength as heroin. If these things are not true, it is not diner coffee, okay.
West flips aimlessly through the menu; he already knows what he wants, but it's sort of protocol, and sometimes it feels good to do things like...well, like things aren't the way they are, like greasy diner food and flirting a little with his waitress aren't luxuries or risks.
He folds his hands in front of his face, leaning on them, just indulging, because...well, because West likes risk a little too much. As we'll probably see.
Comments 44
"Hi! I'm Sandra, I'm gonna take care of you today--what can I getcha to start off with?" She tilts her head, clicking her pen in preparation for his drink order.
The accent is more pronounced than it used to be. Some of that is natural. Some of it isn't.
Reply
He smiles back at her, a little rougher and not as easily as he did once, but this girl? In whatever universe, she has an amazing smile. "How's your coffee, Sandra?" The glance at her nametag is quick, perfunctory. "I'm gonna order it even if it tastes like axle grease, I just want to see if you'll tell me."
Reply
Claire hands one over, and goes to go retrieve some deliciously bad coffee.
Reply
West flips aimlessly through the menu; he already knows what he wants, but it's sort of protocol, and sometimes it feels good to do things like...well, like things aren't the way they are, like greasy diner food and flirting a little with his waitress aren't luxuries or risks.
He folds his hands in front of his face, leaning on them, just indulging, because...well, because West likes risk a little too much. As we'll probably see.
Reply
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