"Remember to lock up when you're done!" Blair hollered as she made her way out of the diner. Pausing at the door, she turned back, ruby red lips pursed.
"Sugar, are you sure you don't want me to stay tonight? I know I'm being a bitch leaving you all alone, tonight, with Ox leaving and all."
Maka smiled and waved off her concern. "C'mon Blair, this guy's as serious as you are about him, go have fun; I got this." Shrugging, she added, "I've got Cook in the back, nothing will happen to me."
"But Maka, it's Sunday night and I know what kind of guys come in," she chewed her lips. "Especially those bikers."
"You spent over an hour getting ready, Air," Maka dryly noted. "You look smoking by the way. I'm not about to let you not have fun."
"But-"
"Blair," the green-eyed girl began, hands on her hips and a sassy twang in her mouth, "go. It's 10:30, only thirty more minutes before I close. It's not biggie, go." Stressing the 'go', Maka gave her another grin.
"I'll go- only because I know how much of a stubborn hoe you can be," she nodded as Maka called out,
"And because you're gonna get laid tonight!" Blair giggled in laughter and gave her one last wave before leaving, the tell tale tinkling of the bells tinkering as the door shut.
Maka sighed, knowing the next thirty minutes were going to pass by very, very slowly. It was slow for a Sunday, the last customer leaving as Blair got ready. The diner had barely scratched the sales mark they needed. The unoccupied seats gave the open room a menacing aura and she erupted in goosebumps.
Lacing her fingers together in front of her, she raised her hands and stretched. If she began cleaning right now, she'd have enough time to finish studying for the test she had the next day.
Mentally noting everything she had to do in order to properly close the place for the night, Maka grabbed the broom and walked over to the surround sound system. Because the diner also served as a bar, they played all times of music to appease the customers.
Knowing the cook didn't really have a preference (except for country, he had... an unusual hatred for that genre as his wife left him for a "country music listening bastard"), Maka pressed the shuffle button and cranked up the volume, not minding the song that came on.
Besides, she wasn't musically inclined anyways. But the song that was currently blaring was something her Mama exposed to her as a child, so she didn't mind. It was always good to have subtle reminders of Mama around her. Not outrageous enough to make her crippled with depression, but also just there as a reminder of her Mom.
Because the volume was loud and she was so close to the speakers, Maka didn't hear the distinctive roar of motorcycles outside the diner. Nor did she hear the jingle of the bells as door of the diner opened, letting in a gust of air that rattled the insides of the store.
Bobbing her head to the sound of the electric guitar, she began sweeping, letting herself get lost in the music.
She was so immersed, she didn't notice the stranger in the diner until she accidentally bumped into him. Turning around in shock, the broom in her hand ready to be utilized as a weapon, she gave a little "eep" when she made eye contact with the person she bumped into.
Muttering a quick "sorry" she jumped back immediately, taking in his persona.
The first thing she noticed was the white hair. His flamboyantly color hair was spiky, messy, and everywhere, even with a black bandana to keep it civilized. No way it was natural, it was too ethereal of a color to be natural.
The second thing she took in were his eyes. Holy shit, they were red. Not just a washed out red, a sensual garnet, an expressive crimson. They were currently amused, the expressing giving him a dangerous glint.
Maka's own green eyes slid down his face to the single shoulder orange scythe patched black leather jacket adorning his (well-muscled) upper body, the faded Rolling Stones shirt, the chained necklace with a single gold ring hanging from his neck, and ripped black-skinny-jeans-but-not-really-skinny-jeans on his lanky legs. All of that paired with worn Doc Martins on his feet, this boy- no man, knew he was cool as dry ice and worked it.
Maka knew instantly he was dangerous.
Sliding her eyes over his figure again, she made eye contact with him, again.
He was slouched over, the form something most motorcycle riders that came into the bar had, but once he saw that she had her full attention on him, he subtly straightened up.
"Yo," he lazily drawled. "You still open?" His voice sent shivers down her back. It was liquid cocaine. He was liquid cocaine.
Damn.
"Y-yeah," she hesitantly stammered out, petrified of being alone with him in the bar.
"My boys outside want some grub," he began in the lazy drawl. "Thought I'd come in to make sure you were open before they came in here making a mess," he clarified and grinned at her wide eyes.
Maka heard the ping of the bell ringing and turned around to see Cook looking at her expectantly. That was their thing- if Maka had trouble, she'd nod twice and he'd call the cops.
She let out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding in.
"No, no, we're open-" she glanced up at the clock above the surround system, "for another twenty minutes if you and your boys want to eat." This was for the business, the group would make their end of day sales, Maka mentally muttered to herself, somewhat hyperventilating at the thought of dealing with these guys on her own.
"Sweet," he grinned widely, stretching the word out, his deep voice causing her toes to curl. "Lemme go get 'em." He turned around to walk back out, but quickly pivoted. Giving her another blood-pounding grin (what the hell was wrong with her?! he was a customer!), he said, "on second thought, lemme order before I get 'em."
Take the order. Fake it till you make it. You got this.
"Sure," she leaned the broom against the table to her left. Pulling out the notepad and pen from her apron, she quirked her eyebrow, "what can I get ya?"
As he relayed the order, Maka's eyes grew wide. This wan't just going to make their end of sale for the night, it was going to make their week!
"Oh, and add on a toy with the kid's meal, please." He ran his hand through his hair, making it even more messy. "Crona'll go batshit crazy if they don't get a toy with the kid's meal, not cool."
She grinned at the reluctant admission, maybe this guy wasn't as terrifying as she thought he'd be.
"The name's Soul for the order, by the way," he added on after she finished writing. Cook met her eyes, nodding that he got all of the orders (thus making her waste time, goddamnit) and Maka let out a dry laugh.
Deciding to indulge him, she mock whispered, "oh yeah, thanks for that, don't want to get your order lost in this sea of people."
He barked out a laugh that had Maka's belly tingling with an unknown emotion.
As he left the diner, he looked over his shoulder and slyly winked back, "maybe I just wanted to give my name to ya."
just a plot bunny!