Author's usual notes and disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters nor the original Inspector Lynley Mysteries – they belong to Elizabeth George and the BBC. I have borrowed the characters from the TV-Show and solely own the ideas of my stories and the developments I've let them go through.

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Author's note and summary: Being a waitress has its pitfalls and there are a lot of rude customers to deal with but sometimes nicer things happen. How do Lynley and Havers fit in?

Just a small thing that crossed my mind. Enjoy...


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I Can't Stand Injustice

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Her parents were not exacvtly pleased with her post-school plans but they had given their parental consent and so she already had signed the papers. The only thing they would not be able to do was supporting her with money but that in fact was not her major concern. She had had small jobs since she was twelve. She was used to work. Her jobs only had to be slightly bigger jobs now.

Bigger jobs like at this party today. This evening would turn into a long night but tomorrow she would have a lot more money in her pocket. She was serving drinks and nibbles for the rich. All she had to do was dress in the uniform they had given her, smile, be polite and carry around trays laden with expensive stuff. It was a fundraising event for something she already had forgotten after two hours.

After four hours she had forgotten the pain in her feet and after six hours she almost only functioned like a robot.

The inevitable happened.

She was just carrying a tray with a bottle of champagne to a table where Lord and Lady Whatwastheirnameagain sat and enjoyed the party from the distance. They were old and not walking and talking like most of the other people, not to mention hopping around on the dance floor. She was almost there, swinging and swaying herself through all the people and the leisurely placed tables towards the wall, when suddenly a chair was pushed into her way. She had to stop abruptly. A skilfull evasive movement let the tray fly into the other direction and so the bottle crashed onto the floor instead of on that young man who just glared at her grimly but walked away without caring about the puddle of champagne and the splinters of glass on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Sir." she murmured her apology.

In an instant her boss was at her side, two boys with cleaning utensils at her heels who immediately started mopping up the mess she had dragged only half into piles with her feet.

"You stupid little thing!" she was called. Her boss completely ignored that they were not alone. Like nobody ever before had done she was dressed down in public. Inwardly she was furious but of course she did not let on anything. The only answers she gave were "Yes, Ma'am." or "I'm sorry, Ma'am." and "Of course, Ma'am." when she was told to pay for the expensive champagne. It was almost half of what she would have earned for this night's work.

It probably would have gone on for a lot longer if not another young man would have stepped in.

"Sorry, Ma'am..." he said. "But it wasn't her fault."

The waitress looked up and smiled thankfully. Unfortunately she was not in the position to defend herself if she would want at least get paid for tonight.

"Still she has to pay for the champagne." her boss grumbled, knowing full well that she should not contradict a guest. "I can't let this pass just like that but I'll go and see what I can do for her."

She walked away not without shooting a dark look at her employee which clearly told her that the last word was not spoken yet.

The waitress smiled and thanked the young man. "I guess, I'll still have to pay at least half of the bottle. Thank you anyway, Sir."

The man's brows furrowed. "You know, it's highly unfair to let a waitress pay for the spilled champagne, even if it'd be just half of the costs. All the more because I've already told your boss that Lord O'Clanis had carelessly pushed his chair in your way."

The waitress roughly laughed. "Well, I hardly could ask Lord O'Clanis to pay for something he hadn't drunk, could I?"

"Actually yes, I think you could do." the young man said and whipped out his wallet. "You know what, Miss? Here's 100 quid. I'm going to pay-"

"No, Sir, I can't accept that!"

"Of course, you can." The man smiled and pushed the note into the waitress' hand. "And I'm going to ask Lord O'Clanis to give it back to me. I've seen him pushing back his chair and I've seen his face. He knew exactly what had happened but he chose to ignore it. I don't like that."

The waitress almost curtsied. Hiding the note in her pockets she shily smiled. "Thank you, Sir."

"It's a pleasure, Miss. You know, I don't like such ignorance. And I can't stand injustice."

"Neither can I, Sir."

After they had exchanged another smile she got back to work.


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