Chapter 1 - The Bowtie
2519. May 17th. Around 11pm.
Earth. USA. Texas. Alpine.
"Where do you call home?" Is the first thing he asks me. It's the same routeen every evening. Harmless banter.
I smirk and tell him: "That depends what you mean by home." I laugh as musically as I can while tucking a strand of buttery blond hair behind my ear. That's how you make tips here, right? Of course, the British accent helps, but only if your a native. A soft, English country-side voice, and you've got them eating out of the palm of your hand.
"Hmmm?" I chuckle.
The man is short, rounded at the waist, and slick with grease. Everything about him screamed truck-y.
"Don't be all coy," he teases.
I set his coffee down in front of him, smiling sweetly. Black. Four sugars.
He tucks a bill into the waist of my apron and winks. I don't have time to check its value as I make my way back to the counter, although a sharp thwack has time to land itself squarely on my bottom. I hold back a sigh because all I can do was turn towards him with a suggestive eyebrow raise and sticky-sweet smile.
Tonight, just like most nights, I'm on a double shift and, as usual completely wiped. Just one more hour. But the blazing, blinking red and white wall paper was enough to drive anyone crazy.
I prop myself up onto the counter, the new girl looking up at me distantly.
"'S wrong?" I ask bitterly.
But she ignores my cynicism and shakes her head giddily, breaking into a smile and nodding towards the table nearest the door. "Table 5," she says, still giggling. I look up, and almost laugh out loud, myself, at the man a few feet before me, clad in, a tweed blazer, brown farming trousers, and a red bow tie signifying his look, with a long metal object that I can't see clearly spinning in his hand. He's perched perfectly on the edge of his booth, looking around intently, totally oblivious to the daggers being shot from our regulars.
"What's his deal?" I look him up and down suspiciously. He is so utterly different from anyone who comes here that for a moment I am taken aback. Astria, I think her name is, shrugs.
"He's yours if you want him." She wiggles her brows and struts into the kitchen. I'm left alone. I sigh. Better get this over with.
So I walk as perkily as I can after 12 hours of labour and lean slowly across his table. There's not really a strict policy here, you do what you do to get by, and if that means flirting for tips then you flirt for tips.
He doesn't notice me at first, so I cough and he looks up, bewildered, dropping the metal tube. It's a screwdriver, I realise. Haven't seen one of those in years.
"Hello, " his eyes scan my blouse for a name tag, and strangely enough, nothing more. "Katrina!" He decides on at last. I roll my eyes but realise he, himself speaks with a British accent. Cockney.
"Kat." I correct him and his brow furrows in confusion.
"Cat?"
"Yeah." I straighten up and pull out the note pad. " It's short for Kathy, not Katrina. What can I get you?"
The man in the bow tie nods once, though doesn't make any indication towards the menu instead he buzzes me. He takes out the screwdriver and buzzes me! Well that is unacceptable!
"Hey!" He looks down then up and then back down again, mouth cracking open and eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
"You really are a long way from home, aren't you" He says softly, slowly and I'm not concerned or scared of him. I think I ought to be, but instead I'm just confused.
I consider before answering. "You could say that."
"Answer me this, Kat," he looks me in the eye. His youthful appearance melts away as his 20-something face becomes a disguise. Eyes that are impossibly old, searching my body for... something. God only know what.
"Where exactly do you call home?"
I blink twice before smiling. Maybe he isn't that different after all.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" I bat my eye lids.
Seeming oblivious the strange man looked my up and down. "I would actually, "
He was definitely persistent, I'd give him that. But a total odd one. I was used to a certain hunger in a mans eyes when he looked at me, even some women actually. So what was wrong with him? Or what was wrong with me? Why was he genuinely curious? Or was it just an act.
"Look," I say in the most business like tone I can be bothered with, placing a hand on my hip. "It's been a long night. Just order would you?"
Almost like a statue, the man froze, eyes buzzing. I couldn't believe this. Just as I opened my mouth in some desperate attempt to get angry, at the end of my patience by now, he cuts me off.
"Of course! " he tosses the menu over his shoulder, and I jump. Is he trying to make me crazy? There has to be something severely mentally wrong with that man, I decide. "Sorry, " he says guiltily as I roll my eyes pointedly - again. I furrow my brow as I lean around the side of the booth to retrieve his discarded menu. My skirt, the back anyway, climbs higher and I feel shamefully exposed.
A wolf whistle rings in my ears. But not him, the greasy man from earlier, sitting only a few tables away now. I stand up and brush down the material, smooth it across my legs, but people are looking. I blush and place down the menu.
"Hang on a minute, mate-y!" Oh great! I roll my eyes. He had to go and get involved, didn't he? The strange man speaks in a defensively protective tone. I swallow.
"Don't!" I hiss. But if he hears me, he doesn't show it.
He is standing now. "Don't talk to her like that!"
Baldy scoffs.
"That's what she's paid for," he waltzes towards me and my cheeks flush. "Aren't you darlin'?" He reaches out a hand to brush my shoulder. Or somewhere more intimate. But I'm not sure I like thinking about that. Instinctively I step back. I was paid to stand for this, wasn't I? After all, I needed this job. So I take a deep breath and nod. But bow tie is in front of me.
"I think you should leave. Apologise to Katrina-"
"Kathy," I whisper but no sound comes out. Honestly, no one has ever spoken for me like this before and though I'm so very mad at him, I can fight my own battles, I'm eagerly anticipating what he'll say next.
"Because that's all I'm giving you. One chance. One chance is all you get, got it?"
And there's something in his eyes that's making Baldy back down and the men stop staring.
"My name's the Doctor, and you need to apologise to my friend."
"I can't believe you!" I practically scream, pacing restlessly around the stranger, throwing out my arms. "You total raving idiot!" It's dark outside. And cold. I suddenly remember how little flesh my skirt is covering as a gush of wind brushes against my legs. I shiver and I tug mercilessly at its edges.
The Doctor, however, is oblivious - a fairly regular occurence, I've noticed, by now. He is actually pinching his nose, face down. "Oww!" He groans and looks up, I see how swollen his brow and nose are, and just above his mouth is all bloodied.
"I've been fired because of you!" I nearly slap him but he recoils, so I pull back my hand. I know better than that, anyway and feel a pang of guilt. It's my fault he got punched... I conclude, but soon raionalise with: "he shouldn't have gotten involved in the first place." He looks at me sorrowfully, and reminds me of a small, sad puppy. We're the same hight, I notice, at least when I'm in my heels.
"In my defence..." he moves about a lot as he speaks, almost as much as I do! But he flails his hands a lot more, I asume this is a nervous habit. That or an attempt to draw my attention. Hands clap down decidedly on both shoulders as he tries to hold me in place. I realise I've been the one pacing him.
I sigh. "Go on."
"Well," The Doctor begins, and I wonder what kind of a title is "Doctor"? Does he even have a name? "I didn't know he was going to hit me!"
I'm restless by now and escape his grip, but the Doctor tries pat my shoulder comfortingly. I'm having none of that, thank you very much.
"I'm going to hit you on a minute!" I assure him. "How am I supposed to make pay my this month?"
"Well... I have a... you could always..." The Doctor trailes off. My eyebrows shoot up.
"Hmm?" I pursue. But he shakes his head like his brain has caught up with his mouth.
"So what now?" I ask dejectedly, throwing myself down, cross-legged on the pavement.
He shrugs. "Doctor," I say quietly, letting my head lul back to face him. The stranger nods. "You're not my friend."
A/N - Well, do you like? This is more of a teaser than anything else. An introduction to my character, the plot and a new writing style I'm trying exclusively for this fanfiction. Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed reading about Kat, I know I enjoyed writing her, and trust me, she is not going to be some stalkerish pathetic Mary-Sue. I was wondering how you felt about it being written from her point of view. I'm not sure how in character The Doctor was for this chapter, so please let me know in reviews. How and if I decide to carry this on, will all come down to feedback. So thank you so very much for reading and please let me know what you thought.
Criticism welcome! Please Review.