A/N: This may evolve into a multi-drabble AU if I feel like continuing.
It's a chilly autumn night and Lann has just finished stacking the dining chairs when he turns around and nearly has a heart attack when sees a woman clad in a ridiculously skintight battlesuit holding a shield the size of an antique serving platter standing in front of his diner with an unreadable look on her face. Her battlesuit is dripping blood onto the sidewalk and her shield has splatters of unidentifiable bits of gore and slime smeared all over it.
The woman's staring straight at him.
Lann blinks a few times, but the woman doesn't disappear. She's still staring, too.
Well, then.
Lann tentatively flips the sign hanging on the window from SORRY, WE'RE CLOSED to WELCOME, WE'RE OPEN. He opens the door just a crack and a blast of chilly November air hits him straight in the face as he says, "Come on in. It's freezing out there."
Lann turns around and walks over to the counter, not waiting to see if the woman would come in; the subsequent chime of the bell hanging over the door and the thud of something metallic against the wooden countertop said enough. As he's placing a slice of reheated pumpkin pie and a fork onto a clean plate, there's a creak of weight settling on one of the bar stools.
The silence was unusual, but Lann thought little of it. Maybe she was just tired; he'd imagine being one of those superheroes gallivanting about and saving the world several times over would take up a lot of energy.
Lann set the plate of pumpkin pie in front of her with slightly shaking hands as he eyed the shield on the countertop. It was a beautiful thing, and he could just make out a metallic crimson-colored base and golden accents in the shape of a landing eagle from underneath all the gore. "I'll get you a cuppa... you look like you need one."
There was no response beyond a scrape of a fork against porcelain, so Lann went over to the coffee machine to procure a mug of black coffee and some packets of zero-calorie sweeteners.
"This is delicious."
Lann glances over his shoulder at the soft murmur. There was a discernible look of pleasant surprise on her face as she brought another a careful forkful of pie to her mouth. Lann turns back to pouring the coffee, the back of his neck and the tips of his ears burning at the praise.
"Well, nice of you to say that." Lann ducks his head as he brings the mug and sweetener packets over and sets them down with little more than a quiet clink against the wood. He then goes over to the nearest sink and busies himself with wiping some drinking glasses and periodically glances over at the woman as she savors each bite of pie.
The clock ticks away at a ceaseless rhythm that normally would've driven Lann insane but for once it seems like the sound had burrowed itself into the brick walls of the diner, leaving a strange sense of serenity in its wake.
A creak of the bar stool pulled Lann's wandering mind back into the present, and he turns to look at the woman; the plate had been scraped clean, and the mug empty of coffee. The woman raised a hand to move some of her long hair out of her face and from where he was standing Lann could see how beautiful her eyes were despite the dark circles under them.
A moment later, a thought hits Lann and he blurts out, "It's on the house. The pie. And. Coffee."
The woman startles, her hand falling down to her side, and her eyebrows slightly dip in a show of annoyance. "I can pay."
"No, I mean," Lann fumbles for words that almost escape him, "You're a super, right? Fighting crime, punishing the baddies, and saving cats from trees, those sorts of things?"
The woman has a sort-of amused expression on her face as she stares at him. Great, she probably thinks I'm a fan or something, Lann thinks and bites the inside of his cheek, and the sad part is that it's true. "Think of the pie and the coffee as a… a thanks, for keeping the city safe and all."
The amusement turns into an expression that Lann can't quite place, but it did make the metaphorical butterflies in his stomach flutter persistently. Huh. That was new.
"Fiona."
Lann blinks and nearly drops the glass he's drying. "What?"
"My name." The woman's looking straight at him, and Lann's doesn't dare look away. "Is Fiona."
"Oh. Oh. Okay, I," Lann wipes his wet hands on his apron and extends one over the countertop for a handshake. "I'm Lann. Pleased to meet you, Fiona."
The woman, Fiona, takes his hand in a firm grip and they both shake hands. Lann almost doesn't want to let go.
After a short moment, Fiona lets go and Lann tries not to let his nervousness show on his face.
"I should go." At her quiet declaration, Lann glances at the clock hanging on the wall. It reads 1:30 in the morning, far too late for anyone with an ounce of sensibility to be walking around at night.
"I can call a… uh," Lann fixes his eyes on a patch of congealed blood on Fiona's left shoulder. "…cab. I can call a cab." He finishes lamely and his ears begin to burn again. Fiona's unpainted lips twitch as if she's trying to hide another smile.
"Someone's on the way." Lann licks his chapped lips and nods, turning his gaze down to his hands. He doesn't look up as he gathers Fiona's plate and mug and begins to wash them. Someone like her would probably already be taken, he muses darkly as the frigid water turns his fingers numb within half a minute.
The clock ticks incessantly. Fiona's still staring. Lann's just trying to ignore the screaming in his head and how fast his stupid heart's beating.
The sudden, blaring honk of a vehicle scares him half out of his wits and Lann nearly drops the plate he's drying into the metal sink basin. Fiona gets up from her seat, smoothes down her dirty battlesuit, and hefts up her shield as if the battle-scarred metal weighs nothing.
"Thank you, Lann." There's a note of warmth to her voice, but Lann's too distracted by how regal she looks, standing tall and proud with the blood of her enemies coating her clothes, to really notice.
"It's, uh, no problem. And I should be thanking you, I think."
Lann tries not to stare when he finally notices the long hammer that's hanging at her side, hooked onto her belt with a sturdy strap; it matched her shield's colors, sported terrifying pointed spikes, and looked as if it could smash through anything with a single swing. At this revelation, Lann feels a conflicting wave of embarrassment and horror crash over him; God, he must look so stupid right now, chatting up a superheroine that could probably kill him with a single punch. No, with just her pinky, probably.
Fiona spares a glance at the intimidating black SUV parked next to the sidewalk. The vehicle honks impatiently again, and she turns back to Lann to give him a final, somewhat curious, look.
"Goodbye."
"B-bye, Fiona."
With a stiff nod, she turns on her heels and exits the diner. From behind the counter, Lann watches her get into the passenger seat of the car with a fluid-like grace he's never seen on any woman before. It's only a few seconds later that the car begins to move, and soon it disappears into the streetlamp-lit streets beyond his field of vision.
Lann takes a moment to exhale a breath that was stuck in his lungs for the past ten minutes, but when it comes out he sounds almost hysterical. He reaches for his cell phone in one of the pockets of his jeans and dials a number with shaking hands and unsteady fingers.
One ring…
Two rings…
Three rings…
Four rings − the phone picks up and a man barks into the receiver, clearly displeased at being awoken so early in the morning. "WHAT."
Lann forces himself to stop hyperventilating, as he's feeling quite lightheaded now. "Kai, the Stigma came in and had a coffee and a slice of pumpkin pie."
There's a moment of silence on the line before Kai says, "Is the shop still standing?"
"What? Of course it is… wait," Lann stops and stares at the barstool where the Stigma – no, Fiona – had been sitting for the past half-hour. "I was… She's so… I don't…"
"Tell me tomorrow." The sound of a cell phone clattering onto a wooden surface gives way to the dial tone. Lann ends his side of the call with the shrill beeping echoing through his ears.
The silence of the empty diner is deafening and the walls seem to be pressing closer now that he's alone. Lann leans against the counter, puts his face in his soap-scented hands, and forces himself to breathe.