From the vantage point of a bystander, you wouldn't notice the petite, auburn-haired girl rushing through the streets, just like she wanted. Silence is golden. She had learned that much growing up here, in the east side of London. I half ran, half walked through the back alleyway that leads to Ronny's diner, where I worked. I didn't know what the time was exactly, but I knew that I was close to being late.

As I pushed open the door and made my way to the counter, I tried to avoid the gaze of a very agitated Ronny. "You're cutting it close again, Adelle. That's the third time this week," she barked.

"Yes, I'm so sorry, Ronny. It won't happen again," I promised. Even though I had left my tiny apartment thirty minutes early today, I still hadn't gotten here in time. I guess that just means I'll have to leave even earlier next time. I had no choice. I couldn't afford to lose this job. Not very many people would offer work to a poor, uneducated 17year-old like myself. It was uncommonly lucky that Ronny was desperately in need of a waitress, seeing as her main one had abruptly left town.

I pushed through the swinging door at the counter, and scanned the shelves for my nametag. I finally found it next to the cook, Joe's. I swiftly pinned it to my shirt, grabbed my notepad, and shuffled over to a little old man in the booth by the window, currently stuffing his nose in the paper. When he didn't put it down, I tried for his attention. "Erhmm," I murmured. He slowly gazed up from his paper. As he registered me through his bifocals, he finally seemed to understand why I was there.

"Oh yes, I'm sorry my dear. It's so easy to get caught up in the rubbish these papers print out now-a-days."

"It's quite alright, Sir. May I ask what you would like to order today?" I liked starting my shift off with these old chaps. They seemed to have a way with making every situation seem funnier. They were also the few men who took to being kind to us waitresses.

"Ah, yes, let's see here. I think for today I shall just have my usual burger and chips," he gladly stated. I wondered if he was a regular. It seemed so, but because I had only started working here a week prior, I didn't know for sure.

"And to drink, um…" I stuttered. "Rupert, call me Rupert," he interrupted.

"Alright, what to drink then, Rupert?"

"Oh, today I think I'll go with a nice cup of tea," he smiled. "It'll be right out, Sir… I mean uhm… Rupert. Sir Rupert." I rolled my eyes at myself while I ungracefully curtsied and left his presence. I walked over and clipped the order to the hanging line that went to Joe.

I heard the bell over the door ring, alerting anyone who cared to notice that someone had arrived. I turned to see the person take their seat at one of the tables near the front. He seemed to be a boy of about my age with a tall stature and broad shoulders. He was wearing a black t-shirt paired with a black leather jacket and black faded jeans. Hmm, black converse. How surprising. At this point he turned to face me. I felt my heart stop as I stared into his eyes. They were a breathtaking blend of pearly grey and crystal blue that glistened like the moon reflecting off the surface of the ocean. I knew that I was staring, but I couldn't make myself look away. After what seemed like hours, he tore his gaze from mine and turned back to the menu.
Still, I stood there, frozen in thought. Contemplating how eyes could be that fascinating. Coming from me, with eyes that start off blue at the pupil and gradually fade into a vibrant green near the end of the iris, I found this quite odd. I stood there, pondering, for another moment when I heard Joe from behind me. "Psst. Get moving, Adelle. Ronny's already in a bad mood, I wouldn't test her if I were you." He hissed as he turned back to the grill and I picked up my notepad again.

I sauntered over to his table when he put his menu down. Now that I had gotten over the initial shock of his eyes, I took in the rest of his features. He had strikingly angular cheekbones with a complexion so pale; it hardly looked like he was human. His medium length, blue-black hair was tussled and strands were hanging down in front of his eyes. I resisted the urge to push them aside and instead asked for his order. "What can I get you to-" "I don't want any food," he interrupted and snarled, "Just get me a glass of water." He glanced at me with provocative eyes. I mentally hid the annoyance in my voice. "Right away, Sir." I replied curtly, and stalked off.

Once I was sure I was out of earshot, I muttered to myself, "Git." I walked over to the sink and turned the faucet on, letting the water stream into the cup. When it was nearly full, I turned the water off, grabbed a handful of ice, and dropped it in. I walked back to his table and placed the drink beside his napkin. He picked up the drink the moment I set it down and turned it around in his hands, observing it. "Is there something wrong, Sir?" I dreadingly asked. Not good. What if this man comments to Ronny how horrible I am and gets me fired. "I can get you another, Sir, if this one's not to your liking," I hopelessly added. He scrunched his face up in distaste, but finally put the glass up to his lips, and took a sip. I noticed that his eyes had momentarily flashed black. "You may go now," he spat. For the second time today, I stalked off from his table. What is his problem? What could I possibly have done to offend him that much?

After a long, drawn-out argument with myself, I finally came to the conclusion that it was his problem and had nothing to do with me. He's probably just had a troublesome day and was blowing off steam. Yes, that's it. Not something I did. But as I looked over to his table, I saw that he had gone and the door swung back and forth on its hinges. There were coins left on the table next to the check, and his half-empty drink. I didn't have time to consider why he had left so briskly, because by then a rambunctious group of college students had sauntered their way into an already crowded booth. "Hmph," I sighed. This was going to be another long night.

Compared to mister onyx-haired stranger, the rest of the night was utterly uneventful. Finally, at around three a.m. Ronny announced that she was closing up shop, and we were free to go. I put away the broom that I had been using to sweep up the mess an office party had made, and placed my nametag on the shelf. "Night Joe. Night Ronny," I quickly muttered on my way out the door. Finally, freedom. It was better now that I could see the night sky gallantly floating miles above my head. I drew in a breath of the frigid night air, and began my hour-long walk home.

I meandered the rest of the way home letting my feet lead me blindly through the dark. My eyes scanned the stars. No matter how long I stared, they never failed to mesmerize me. I started as a mangy orange and white tabby darted out of any alley to my left, not hesitating to voice its annoyance. It was when the tom had stalked off into the shadows and out of sight, that I noticed a silhouetted figure, perched on a display windowsill of Barney's Bakery.

I watched the figure apprehensively, keeping an eye on his every movement. I took a step backwards, and a melodic voice carried over to me, "Don't run," it said casually. At this point, the figure, I'm assuming it was male, reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. It wasn't until the scenery around me blurred that I realized I was fleeting down the cobblestone roadway.