A/N: This is all human. I think they're slightly out of character due to the weird setting. This is just a collection of one-shots I guess. Enjoy!
Redfern Diner
of coffee cups and french toasts
Thierry Descouedres brushed the blonde hair falling on his eyes with a silent sigh.
The Redfern Diner was owned by his father's good friend Hunter Redfern, who passed away just a few months ago, and was also a family diner. Now that Hunter had passed on, his daughters resigned from their jobs as waitresses and pursued their true dreams. They left the diner-business to Thierry's father (who left the business to Thierry because he was getting old) and the younger Redferns.
So now, this small classic diner was mostly under Thierry's care.
"Good morning, Thierry," yawned Jezebel Redfern, a beautiful girl with silvery blue eyes and red fiery hair. As usual, she wasn't wearing her uniform as she strode in the closed diner, but Thierry knew that she was going appear in her uniform later.
"How are you today, Jeze—Jez?" Thierry asked, straightening up from his slouched posture against the counter.
"Same old, same old," she replied while stretching her arms over her head. Her eyes swept around the tiny diner. "The guys aren't here yet, I see."
"They'll be here. Don't worry."
"Oh, I'm not worrying. Those brats are so—ugh." Jez placed her helmet on the counter along with her black duffel bag. "I'm glad the Redfern sisters are gone though. Lily's such a bitch."
Thierry only let out a sigh. He didn't want to comment.
"I know you don't like her."
He moved around the counter to grab the cloth and disinfectant sprayer.
"Come on, just say it once."
"I'm fine, thanks." Thierry heard a frustrated sigh followed by the slamming of doors. He sprayed some disinfectant sprayer on the counter and began wiping it clean. Where were the others? They needed to help clean the diner before the customers come strolling in.
The bell rang ten minutes later, and John Quinn, the adopted Redfern son with dark everything except for his skin, strolled in with a scowl on his face.
"Good morning, John."
"There's nothing good about mornings," he replied just as Ash Redfern, a frivolous blonde with fascinating eyes, pushed his way through the door.
"Move it, Quinn!"
"Don't be so loud, you idiot," Quinn said, pushing at his best friend. Ash merely shrugged and made his way to the back of the diner, accidentally walking in on his distant cousin changing.
"Ash Redfern!" Smack.
Five minutes before the diner officially opens, Thierry examined the clear windows, the shiny tiled floor, the arrangement of the chairs and tables, the tray full of spices—
"Quinn," Delos Redfern called with a teasing grin, "your beloved officer is here."
Quinn sent him a glare, but his gaze immediately slid to the window showing the diner's parking lot. And the police car was definitely parked outside. He made sure to look cool before the lady cop came in through the door.
"Why good morning beautiful," Ash greeted. The lady police pursed her lips in response, ignoring the blonde's futile flirt attacks.
"Please ignore his annoying presence," Blaise Harman stated while leaning her hip on the counter. She raised an elegant eyebrow, a pleasing smile on her face. "The usual?"
Rashel Jordan, local police of the area, smiled curtly. She moved onto her usual wooden stool. "Please."
Quinn was already halfway finished with making the officer's order. Regular coffee and French toast. He was just waiting for the French toast to be finished . . .
Seeing this, Blaise sat down beside the cop and leaned close. "See that guy over there in the kitchen making your order?"
Rashel let her eyes wander over to the guy . . . John Quinn. He was always serving her order that she saw his name tag so many times—enough to remember him (and of course, she was quite interested).
Blaise was smiling. "Yeah, he has a huge crush on you."
Quinn almost slammed the tray on Blaise's head when he caught onto what she said as he exited out of the kitchen. But, instead of strangling Blaise in front of the cop, he cleared his throat. "Is there anything else?"
"Uh, no, this is fine," Rashel fumbled with her words, "thanks."
In the kitchen, Delos was cheekily watching the cop and Quinn behind closed doors. It was then that one of his cousins, James Rasmussen, hit him on the back of his head with a tray.
"What are you doing?" James asked, gray eyes scolding.
"Nothing of your interest," he answered. Man, if only he had supernatural hearing. Like a vampire or something. James hit Delos on the head again.
"Get back to work."
"Okay, if she puts her knife on her right when she's finished eating her French toast, that means she's interested in you," Blaise told Quinn as he was mopping the already-shiny floor on the other end of the diner.
"Blaise, just stop."
"I'm trying to help."
"I don't need help."
"Fine," Blaise crossed her arms, "I guess I won't tell you what she asked about you."
Quinn stopped mopping and glanced over his shoulder. He was so curious, but he didn't want to let go of his pride and ask Blaise. Fucking man pride.
"And I guess you don't want her number." Blaise smiled and pulled out the notepad from her back pocket. "Her personal number."
"Why would she give you that?" Quinn asked. He was sure that the cop wouldn't give out her personal number to anyone. He was certain.
"Oh, you know." She shrugged and placed it back in her pocket.
"Why can't you check if she places her knife on her right?" Quinn asked. He really did not want to watch unashamedly where the cop places her knife.
"Because I'm not the one who's interested in her, idiot."
"Fine." Quinn handed the mop to Blaise.
"And what is this?"
"My payment," he replied. He could see the cop slyly looking around before placing her knife on the right. Quinn swallowed as the police officer slid out from the stool and headed over to Thierry to pay for her food. She caught Quinn's gaze and the corner of her lips lifted in a shy smirk. Quinn had smirked back just before she thanked Thierry and headed out of the diner.
As soon as she left, Quinn hurried to get her tray, making sure that the knife was on the right. Blaise gave him a thumbs up from the other end of the diner and nearly spilled the mopping water onto the floor.
His favorite customer was actually interested in him, huh? The thought itself made Quinn feel better for the rest of the day.