"I think it's safe to say that your moods are like the weather," Mr Tanaka says, looking up from washing dishes as you mope around the kitchen.
"Hm? What do you mean?" you ask listlessly.
"Well, you were all sunshine for the past two weeks and now you look like a raincloud," he replies, running a soapy hand through his greying hair.
"I feel like one," you mumble, kicking open the door with your arms full of dishes. It's been ten days since the party and you haven't heard a peep from Bolin. It could be nothing, but you're fairly certain that it's about what happened with Opal. I'll go check up on him after work.
Finished handing out the meals to the first batch of customers, you're about to turn back when you spot a familiar figure sitting on the other side of the room, looking straight at you.
Opal?
You look around and decide that the whole world is against you, as there are no other waiters available. You sigh and approach her table.
"Hello, and welcome to Yuuya's Noodle Palace," you say in your chipper I'm-such-a-happy-person voice. "What can I get you today, ma'am?"
"Hey," she says, surprising you. So she speaks. "Listen, I'm so sorry for the way I acted at the party. I'm not here to eat, I wanted to talk to you."
"That's great and all, but you still have to order," you tell her. "Restaurant policy and all."
"Oh, okay," she complies. "Do you have a vegetarian option?"
"Absolutely. How does a tofu salad sound?"
"Great! I love tofu."
"Would you like anything else? Perhaps a drink?"
Opal winces at your cool tone and shakes her head.
"I'll be right back with your order," you say with a practised smile before walking off, images of Bolin's distraught face flashing across your mind.
You return minutes later with the salad and set it down in front of Opal, who smiles hesitantly up at you before taking a bite. Her eyes widen.
"Mmm...this is delicious!" she exclaims.
"Thank the chefs. I come back here all the time when I'm not waitressing," you reply. Her expression suddenly turns serious as she looks at you.
"I came here yesterday as well, but you weren't here."
"I, uh, work every second day." You look around. "Please make this quick, or my manager is going to kill me."
"Right, yes." She clears her throat. "I believe you about, you know, not being Bolin's girlfriend. You were right, he wouldn't do anything like that. But that wasn't why I was mad."
"No?" you say, confused. She shakes her head.
"I broke up with Bolin because I knew I wasn't good for him, but when I was watching you two interact from across the room, it was like you'd known each other for years...which you probably have, of course!" She lets out a 'silly me' sort of laugh, blushing slightly.
"Where are you going with this?" you ask cautiously.
"What I'm saying is, I think you have the potential to love Bolin."
You blink rapidly, trying to process her words, and completely lose your professional stance.
"I...uh...what?" Just when you start to think they're normal—bam! And you're on the crazy train.
Opal smiles sadly. "I know this might sound crazy to you, but you're nice and pretty and funny, and you treat him well. I saw you taking care of him after you talked to me. That's why I was mad, because I knew he'd be happier with you—"
"Wait, slow down!" you exclaim, holding your hands up. "Do you have any idea how much of a mess Bolin was after you dumped him? When I found him, he was getting snot all over the table and he'd eaten nine bowls of noodles. Nine! Even his fire ferret looked like he was going to pop!"
Opal blinks. Apparently this is news to her.
"He's not going to get over you, the beautiful airbending justice warrior and granddaughter of Toph, anytime soon," you say matter-of-factly.
"I didn't say anything about 'soon'," she murmurs, but you're done with this conversation and turn to walk away. You crash straight into someone's chest and stumble backwards, holding your sore nose in shock. You freeze when you notice the shirt and slowly look up into the eyes of your manager.
"You just can't stop being best friends with the customers, hey?" he growls, the lights glaring off his shining bald head. "You know, there's a special word for people like you."
"And what would that be, sir?" you ask meekly.
"Fired."