YAY! THIS IS BEING UPDATED! Apologies to everyone. I want to thank you all for keeping with this story. Please review! And thank you for reading.
Jason stood outside the Aurora, trying to decide what he was going to do. He was sick and tired of eating crappy canned food, hiding away in one of his apartments, waiting for night to come so he could get on with his life.
Being a murderer-slash-antihero-slash-vigilante was bad enough when the only time you could come out and do what needed to be done was at night. And standing in front of his fancy, well-received restaurant as they day went on (as tired as he was), something occurred to him. Every murderer-slash-antihero-slash-vigilante deserved a meal, even if they were near sleep walking. And he wanted a good meal.
Jason walked in, and nearly smiled at the dim interior. It gave off the impression of a fancy-schmancy restaurant, private and quiet, with nice music playing from the speakers near the front window where he had been standing by.
After saving that girl last night - he didn't even know her name - and beating up those thugs, and attending to his usual crime-lord duties, he was ready for something yummy. Possibly soup.
He looked around for a moment before he saw a familiar face coming his way in a waitress' dress - black and white, short skirt, shot-sleeved, with a vest, with shiny black shoes - with her hair done up somewhat nicely, but a tremble in her hands that she kept clasped in front of her as she stopped in front of her, her eyes examining him for a moment before a smile broke across her lips.
Jason knew it to be a fake smile, but it had a hint if sincerity in it, one that made him smirk right back at her.
This caught her off guard. And that was slightly amusing to see.
"Right this way, sir," she said, blinking, trying to recover from his smirk. After a moment of studying her as she had studied him, he knew exactly who she was. He'd saved he last night. And she didn't even know it. She looked alright, though, a little shaken. She should be fine, he thought as he followed her, weaving in between tables, getting no strange looks from any strangers - a relief.
She directed him to a small table, and he sat down, still smirking at her. Her brow furrowed for a second before smoothing out. But something was off about her. She seemed a bit off, nervous almost. He didn't miss it when her eyes darted away from her customer, all around the restaurant His vague amusement disappeared, and his smirk softened into a straight line. Something was definitely wrong.
His eyes fell to the silver name tag that was pinned to her black vest.
Aira.
Well, at least he had a first name now.
"Would you like anything to drink, sir - and would you like some bread-sticks or chips for your wait?" she asked, her voice wobbling for a moment before returning to normal. Or, what he assumed what was normal for her.
"Just water, please, and some bread-sticks would be great" he said, picking up the menu and examining the cover.
"I'll be just a moment," she murmured, and she turned on her heel and left. As soon as he suspected he would not see her, his eyes left the menu and followed her into the swinging double doors that led into the kitchen.
He shook his head, and returned his attention to the menu. Who knew what could possibly have her on edge? This was Gotham. Everyone had a reason to be on edge. He told himself it didn't concern him: he'd saved her, she'd thanked him - end of story. And she didn't even know who she was serving.
A few moments later, the waitress, Aira, came back, and set down a glass and pitcher of water, along with a basket of steaming, seasoned, great-smelling bread sticks Oh, this was so worth losing sleep over.
"Are you ready to order?" she asked him, pulling a pad of paper out of her vest's breast pocket and whipped out a pen from behind her ear, and clicked it.
"Yeah, actually, I wanted..." he held up the menu and pointed to whatever the hell was at the bottom of the list. It was some sort of fancy sandwich and it sounded good, whatever it was.
"Oh! Of course!" A small, genuine smile appeared on her face, as she jotted it down, obviously not needing to look at it twice. "Good choice, sir - it's one of the best meals here!"
He allowed himself to smirk back at her - just a little - as she put away her pad and pen. "I'll get this to you as soon as I can!" she said, her present mood brightening as she turned left, in less of a hurry this time, but he didn't mind.
He was about to turn to the scrumptious-looking bread when he heard a woman's weary voice call out from near the front doors, "Aira! Visitor!"
Jason's eyes shot up and followed the woman named Aira - whose mood had changed drastically because of two spoken words (which was alarming) - slowly made her way over to the hostess (who had been oddly absent when he had arrived). The hostess looked older, sisterly towards the younger waitress. He could read the worry on the older woman's face and the fear on the younger one's.
His interest was peaked.
After exchanging a few words, Aira made her way to the front doors, meeting a guy that seemed about her age. He was handsome, tall, but he didn't seem all that strong. Jason watched as the guy smirked - in a mean way, not like how he had - down at the girl, and for some reason felt a swell of concern when she shrank away from him, and the hostess behind her stepped away from the couple she was attending to to step forward, sort of guarding the smaller one.
The guy who was speaking to Aira frowned at her, and then something menacing and vile flashed across his features for a brief moment before turning on his heel and exiting the restaurant.
Aira merely stared after him, mouth hanging open, and he figured that he was someone she knew very well. He was about to turn away from this odd scene that no one else seemed to see but the staff, who had all paused to look at her, but now were going back to their duties, when her hands flew over her mouth and she disappeared from sight.
Jason was perplexed as he turned to his bread.
What had that been about?