She had a lunar calendar hanging on the wall of her room, right over the bed. Lined in silver and deep blue, ornately decorated, it was impossible to miss- not that she ever needed the thing. It had been a gag gift, really, from a mother trying to make the best of an admittedly fucked-up situation.
She always knew what phase the moon was in. Even now Renee could feel the siren call of moonlight, the wolf howling just under the surface. It was only two days to the full, and the werewolf felt the pull in her bones. As she dozed up against the coffee shop's counter, eyelids flickering in a dream-chase, the time seemed impossibly long.
"Red! Red, get your lazy arse up! We could have customers!" Shifting easily from one state to another, the young woman raised one eyelid to glare balefully at her employer. The man thumped the counter once more for good measure as she stared at him.
As pets and their owners began to look suspiciously alike, so had Romulus and his shop become much the same. The both gave off an air of shabby gentility, of things from a finer time gone to seed. His thinning hair was the same shade as the peeling, fake wood tables; seats and shoes were covered in worn leather. It might have been fine, once upon a time- but now it was only old, just like the man.
"Rom, we haven't had a customer all day. That's hardly going to change because I take a much-needed rest." She tossed her head imperiously, crimson curls bouncing. Her hair was not the common orange-red of most gingers, but a deep scarlet that had baffled both her parents and earned her nickname. Red. Little Red from the hood, she thought with a purely mental snicker. The neighborhood just beyond the shop's whitewashed walls was not a friendly one, but she'd grown up here. She knew the dangers just as well as anyone. These streets weren't for stopping to smell the roses.
Romulus only looked at her in that particular way he had, eyes drooping at the corners and mouth tight, and Red knew she didn't stand a chance. For a balding, middle-aged man with an erratically explosive temper, he could be persuasive when he needed to be. He twisted his hands as he looked at her, dark green gaze considering. Red shifted uncomfortably under his regard.
"Well, lass," he said finally, "If you can't stay awake at the counter, might as well make yourself useful. I've got a delivery for you." The girl opened her mouth in sudden protest as she realized exactly what she'd gotten herself into, but her employer only raised an admonishing hand.
"You were asleep on duty. Perhaps a visit to Grandmother will teach you not to do so, hm?" He chuckled at her fierce look and began to gather pastries from the back room, talking on even as his hands blurred in easy movement. Rom had run the business on his own before she'd come along, and didn't seem to have lost any competence since. Red set her lips in a scowl.
The woman wasn't anyone's Grandmother, really. Not anymore. Her children- if she'd had any, the stories differed- had long since left for more prosperous parts. And the old lady stayed here alone, chastising the young children of the neighborhood and any salesman unfortunate enough to knock on her door. She was the neighborhood bogeyman, the wicked witch of tales. Grandmother also, regrettably, most annoyingly, had a sweet tooth. She came only to Romulus for her pastries- and who had to deliver them? Red, of course.
She continued to whine as he loaded up a carry-all with muffins and croissants, powder puffs and sweets of all sorts. The man seemed to have tuned her out, but Red always gave it her best effort. Then she halted mid-word, hypersensitive nose twitching. Rom was not as successful at ignoring his glare.
"You gave her the last jam tart, didn't you." She accused. His guilty silence was proof enough, and the girl let out an explosive sigh, pretending not to see her employer's eye roll. "Figures. I head out into the middle of nowhere to do a delivery, and in return you give away the last of the jam tarts. How charitable of you, Rom." He only grinned at her and patted her condescendingly on the head. Red had to resist the urge to snap at his fingers, and he seemed to notice, wiggling them at her as he pulled away.
"Don't you worry, my girl. There will be more ready when you come back." With that, he handed her the basket, nodded, and shoved her out the door.