Disclaimer: As per previous chapters.
It was sort of purely by chance that she stumbled upon 'Der Waffle Haus'. Sort-of-purely-by-chance, because the way she figured it. The universe owed her a favour (several actually) and so when her stomach had grumbled, the universe had provided an acceptable source of nourishment, therefore cashing in one of those favours.
She stared at the building for a few seconds, before warily entering. The entire building looked like an accident waiting to happen, from the overly large 'Der Waffle Haus' neon sign, to the happy little interior ( the kind that you see in horror films before a serial killer or a demon from the thirteen-floor of hell appears), she seriously thinks about calling the local council to ask about local building codes.
Still her stomach seemed to override any intellectual protest, and so she stumbled into the homey diner, smiling brightly and hopefully.
Collapsing into a booth she stretched out her tired muscles, and opened the menu, curiously looking through it.
"Can I help you?" A voice brought her out of her mind, blinking, the waitress seemed to take pity on her, "Your order?
"Oh, Can I please have a cup of Tea, and uh, a blueberry muffin."
"Your order will be out soon."
"Thank you."
In a much better mood now that the promise of food had been announced, she glanced around the dinner. There were a few people milling round. A bunch of teenagers over by the front window, in a corner, with massive stacks of waffles that looked strange in contrast to their dark emo-gothic whatever clothing. A middle-aged woman sat leaning into the table across from a middle-aged man who looked as equally lovesick. An old man with his granddaughter, the man drinking coffee and the little girl sneaking stealing pieces of bacon from his plate.
Turning around, she noted the group behind her.
It seemed like every single time she saw someone important, someone detrimental to the time stream, that a giant neon sign would be hanging over their heads. Every single time, a little tick in the back of her head would start, and annoy the hell out of her until she needed what needed to be done. Whatever that was.
Anyway, the group were the type of people that started the tick in the back of her head to go haywire, crazy, screaming at her like a five year old on a sugar high, that these people were important.
It kinda reminded her of high school.
"Where's my post-it?" A dry voice wafted in the air, "Don't I get a post-it?"
"If you do not have a post-it in front of you, Peanut, then you do not have a post-it." A male voice replied calmly.
"Why don't I have a post-it?"
"I hear upper management's in shambles." Another voice, spoke up, another female voice, this was calmer.
"Reeaallly now." A squeaky male voice piped up. A definite British tone was in his voice, for one fleeting second, she was reminded of the Doctor.
"Hmm." Was all the second female voice responded with.
"Come on Roxy, you can't tell us that juicy piece of gossip and then just take it away." The squeaky male voice whined.
"Yes, come on Roxy." Another female voice filled the air, this one seemed refined, softer.
"Well, alright." 'Roxy' agreed, "So, I was talking to some of the Reapers from Circulatory Systems Division-"
"Plague Reapers? Now why would you be talking to them, Roxy?." The squeaky voice piped up.
"If you would shut up, Mason, then you'd find out."
"Alright."
"So anyway, there was an outbreak of chicken pox in a clinic where I had to reap yesterday, and I got talking to one of them, William-"
"William? Now, who's he?" She could practically hear the smug smile on 'Mason's' face through his words.
"Mason, shut the fuck up, or I'll shoot you."
There was a small silence.
"So, he was talking about how he'd been having technical difficulties- receiving Reaps that should have been given to Natural Causes, and getting reaps well out of their area. And he told me he called up some of his buddies from Australia-"
"Ass end of the world." Mason interrupted.
"Fuck-up, shut the fuck up and let the Lady speak." The first male voice responded, calmly.
"Thank you Rube, So- he said how External Forces and Natural Causes having been having massive trouble over there, having to tread on each other's toes to get their reaps done. He mentioned this story, about how two reapers got the same reap."
"Really?" Mason interrupted, honest curiosity in his voice, "That's weird. We haven't been having any trouble."
"What about the old lady and her son last week, that you and Daisy Reaped, you guys were complaining about it all day." Roxy snapped.
"Well, alright-"
"And you wanna know what the really screwed up thing is? Everyone's saying how Head Reapers have been getting their list's of reaps, with Bad Wolf, scribbled right over it. Creepy huh?"
"What the fuck is Bad Wolf?"
"Come on Georgie, haven't you ever heard of Little Red Riding Hood?" Mason piped up again.
"I for one loved listening to George Kouroupos' simply marvellous composition-"The refined, classy, sophisticated voice was back.
"Oh Daisy, did you screw him too?"
"Georgia, as it turns out, I did not."
"It's the apocalypse. We've just gotta wait for the frogs to start raining now." Mason looked out the window dramatically.
"Here's your muffin and tea," The proclaimed items were carefully placed on her table. Gratefully she glanced up at the dark skinned woman with a smile, "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Before the woman even moved, 'Mason's' voice piped up again.
"Can I have some more coffee, Kiffany?"
"How do you plan on purchasing Coffee if you have no any money to purchase with?" Rube spoke up.
"I'll cover him," George announced, "What? I'm not going to listen to him fucken whineall day."
"Thanks Georgie. This really means a lot to me, it really does!"
"Do you need anything else?" Kiffany the waitress spoke to her, before moving on as she shook her head.
The conversation was getting good. Something inside her brain told her that it probably wasn't a good idea to listen in on other people's conversations, (privacy and all) but the conversation was so interesting.
"Excuse me," someone tapped her back. Stiffening, she turned around and found herself face to face with a cheeky pretty-boy, who shared just a little too much facial similarity with the Doctor, "Can I have your napkins?"
Blinking she reached for the silver napkin dispenser, mouth twitching as she heard the second voice.
"Mason! Show some respect" Roxy spoke up.
"You aren't planning on wasting all those napkins are you?" Kiffany spoke, her tone was ambiguous- somewhat calm, and somewhat threatening, "because you know what'll happen if you do."
"Of course not Kiffany!" Mason squeaked, turning around and thumping back into his seat. Kiffany stared at him for a moment before making a noise under her breath and walking away.
Mason watched her until she was gone, before turning back around with a grin.
"Can I have your napkins?" He paused, "Please?"
"Mason!" Roxy hissed, "Sit your sorry ass down! You know Kiffany will throw you out again."
"Hmm. Thanks Roxy." He replied, "Napkins?"
Sighing she handed over the silver napkin dispenser, "Knock yourself out."
Mason made a noise of glee, as he grabbed the napkin dispenser, looking like a child in a candy shop.
"Mason. I will fuck you up. You will not lie to Kiffany. God knows she puts up with enough of your bullshit."
"Uh, thanks Roxy," His words dripped with sarcasm, "But- hey, are you British?"
Mason suddenly swivelled around and poked her again.
Turning to face him, she nodded.
"Blimey," Mason grinned, "Mason."
"Rose."
"Hello there Rose!" he was chipper, and leering. Suddenly he gasped and huffed, groaning out, "One minute," before turning around.
The smug look on the face of the woman next to him seemed to suggest injury of some kind.
Picking apart her muffin, she pulled out chunks and started eating. The muffin was glorious, wonderful, even better on her stomach which had resorted to self-cannibalism to survive. The muffin had almost half gone before another prod to her back and a chipper "Hello Rosie!" interrupted her.
"Mason, let the Lady finish her muffin. It isn't polite to interrupt people's meals." Rube spoke in his frighteningly calm voice.
"She doesn't mind- you don't mind, do ya Rosie?" His sudden direction in conversation confused her for a moment, when it finally computed in her mind.
"No. This is the funniest conversation I've heard all day!"
"Are you from London? I think she's from London. You sound London-ish."
Rose grinned at his uncanny similarities to the Doctor, "Yeah. I'm from London- you?"
"Me too!" Mason grinned widely, bouncing slightly, "Good old England, eh? So are you travelling?"
"Yep. I'm sort of...wandering. I don't exactly know where I'm going, but, you know, it's a big old world out there."
Mason looked thoughtful, "I never understood why people want to go," he waved his hand vaguely, "You know, out there. It's all guide books, warning on local water safety and plane trips."
Rose nodded, "Yeah, that's why I'm not exactly using tourist lanes. It's worked so far, I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes you are!" Like many of his words, his tone insinuated more than what he actually said.
"Down boy," Roxy interrupted, before changing the direction of her gaze, "You really shouldn't encourage him, he's like a puppy. He'll follow you home if you show him the tiniest bit of love and then tear up your fucking furniture."
Somehow she got the impression that Roxy was speaking from experience.
"Come on Roxy, we should encourage Mason to...find friends." George piped up, from beside Mason.
"Will all of you fuck off; I'm trying to hold a civilized conversation here!"
"You're forgetting something there mason," Roxy leaned forwards, "That would require you to be civilized."
Mason simply sent a rather rude hand gesture towards Roxy.
"So, Rosie. Where were we?"
"Travel the world or die trying?" She offered hesitantly.
"That. Is possibly the stupidest bloody piece of bullshit I've ever heard. I would have thought people were more concerned about self preservation than gawking at cheap knick-knacks and old buildings." Mason announced, "Dead is dead. Dead as a doornail. Gone! Deceased! Dearly departed. Finis! The end."
"What's the point of living if you don't do anything?" Rose shrugged, "You'd just be bored for your entire life. That doesn't seem right to me. Besides, once I've finished my journey to the centre of the earth, Death is the next big adventure, right?"
Mason grinned, " You know, you have a very strange idea of death."
"Death and I are buddies. We play poker every Saturday Night." Her voice sounded like she was joking. However she wasn't sure if she was.
"Have you ever watched the Munsters?," Mason suddenly stated, "You know: When your days on earth are over / And you've gone to your reward, / Let us put you 'neath the clover / At a price you can afford!"
"My mum used to," She answered, tugging at her pink jacket; "I took one look at the black and white picture and ran."
"Ah, me neither. I just like the jingle." He hummed a few bars, before glancing at the man called Rube, "See, I can play nice with others."
"Excuse me Miss," Rube turned his attention to her- not that she suspected it ever hadn't, "I really think you should go back to your muffin and tea, I hear it's exceptionally lovely today. Mason has a lot of work to do, and you shouldn't be associating with anyone who isn't respectable."
"Alright then," Standing, she dropped a bundle of bills on the table, and walked towards their table with a slight shrug.
"The Vashta Nerada might be a little late with the list tomorrow. The whole upper management is over taxed since The Year That Never Was incident, we've got the paperwork for billions of people who are reported as 'Reaped' but are still alive." She sighed slightly, "Another decade of filling and labelling and pulling off those little folder tabs to get the paper to fit inside the box."
She blinked as she realized the silence that had descended over the table, "Anyway, it's nice to meet you Mason, I'll see you on the otherside, then yeah?"
Walking away from the table, she was only in range long enough to hear Georgia Lass's brilliantly witty reply.
"Holy Shit was that just Death?"
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