A/N: Thank you reviewers! You are my heroes. I'm, again, sorry for changing stuff, but fanfic was being stupid to me. And that makes me sad. I'm also sorry for slow updates. But I prefer to write without the watchful eye of others on me. I feel less pressured that way.

Disclaimer: Norah is the only thing I own in here. Sadly, but I like Norah, so that's ok.

Mark walked down the street. He pulled his coat tighter. It was Friday. He was headed towards the Life Café. It was snowing slightly. A dusting of powder rested on his shoulders and hair. He was nervous. So nervous. He felt like he had a swarm of mutant butterflies attacking his stomach lining. But, he tried to tell himself, it was a good nervous. Like good stress. It motivates you. Eustress. Yes, this was eustress. The kind that made you make the deadline, take the test, just go into the café. Mimi's word's came back to him, 'She might not even be there'. He reminded himself of that again, as he had on the whole way down from the apartment. It was being worn through, though.

Mark stopped in front of the café. He could just go home now. He could tell Roger and Mimi that Norah hadn't been there. Use Mimi's twenty bucks to buy them all food for the night. That would work. But then he wouldn't know. And Mimi would insist he come back. She was like that. When it came to a chance of love, she was insistent.

Mark touched the twenty in his pocket and entered the café.

The air inside the café was warm, much more so than the air outside. That relaxed him, but not by much. The manager glared at him. Mark and his friends were notorious at this place for sitting down and never ordering or paying, just there because the restaurant had heat. Mark had to choke back his laughter. He flashed his twenty and found himself a seat. He sat for about ten minutes, reading the menu. He wondered what to get. Did people judge you by the food you ate? He decided a burger was good. Or what else? The Life Café was limited in the menu department. He bit his bottom lip. A burger. That sounded good. No utensils. No pressure. Just easy. Good.

Was she here? Mark looked around the crowded café. He didn't see her. I hope she's not here, he thought, at the same time as I hope she's here. He felt filled up with emotion, like he had so much energy that he had been forced to hold in, and now he didn't know what to do with it. It was almost painful. He felt scared. Then he saw something that made the bottom drop out of his stomach.

It was her. She was wearing slightly ripped jeans, a black blazer, and a t-shirt with a lopsided, simple little robot on it. Her hair was up in a sleek, straight ponytail, and a navy blue scarf replaced yesterday's. She had big hoop earrings and was, of course, wearing a black waitress's apron. She was taking an order from a blond girl a few tables away. They were talking. Mark assumed the blondie was either her friend or a regular. She walked away from the table, having finished taking down the order. She went through a door marked kitchen and disappeared. The last thing he saw of her was the stiletto heel of her black suede shoe. Mark focused on his menu. He had to order something. Soon. Coffee and a burger. But what did he want on his burger. He was starving. Everything. Except onions. Mark hated onions on his food. If he didn't know they were there, if they were used as seasoning, he was fine. But on his burger or his steak, that he could not handle.

Norah emerged from the kitchen again, empty handed. She glanced around the room, looking for a new customer to take the order of. She cast her eyes around and they landed on . . .

. . . The guy next to him. She walked over to that table, smiling and asking him what he was going to have, but not in an overly friendly way. Mark smiled. She actually sounded slightly frustrated and annoyed at having to introduce herself continually to people when a) she had a nametag, and b) these people were gonna forget in maybe five minutes, if not sooner. The cheery introductions now sounded a little ironic to him. But in a funny, haha way, not in an oh the irony, sigh way. Mark had to bite back a laugh. He was getting a little hungry, and he was starting to relax. Norah walked away again, back to the door marked kitchen, presumably the kitchen (here, Mark had to smile at his own wit).

Then she exited with a bang, expelled by a fat chef. He looked not angry but exasperated.

"I'm sorry!" she wailed. "I just wasn't looking Julius-"

"You never are." he replied "Norah. God. That'll come out with dish detergent. Now go!" He pointed to the dining area.

Norah looked at him sheepishly. "Go!" he yelled again.

Norah watched him retreat into his kitchen, then took a plate of food from the man next to her, probably a kitchen assistant, who was covered in tomato sauce. Norah had a large spot on her robot's head. It looked like it was hemorrhaging. She tried to scrape some of it off as she put the plate of fried chicken down in front of a befuddled man, who nevertheless dug in immediately. Still trying to wipe away the sauce, she headed over towards Mark's table. Mark froze. She hadn't seen him yet. What if she didn't recognize him? Then, he thought, he could just order, and it would just be like a regular night.

She was still working at the sauce when she reached his table and began her spiel.

"Hi-I'm-Norah-and I'll-be-your-server-today-are-you ready-to-order-yet-or-do-you-need-a-minute." she spewed off at top speed, not even looking at him. She knew it by heart. He again had to bite back a laugh. "Blah, blah, blah . . . my shift's over in five, so order now or your getting a new waitress. Probably. Depending on how long you take to decide." She was pretty funny. And then she looked up.

"Subway guy?" she asked. Like she was saying the name of one of her friends. Like Reggie, or Anna, or Chris. Reggie? Okay that was a little out there. But still.

"Um yeah. Norah?"

"Yeah. Haha, Julius loses. He said you wouldn't come. He said I would never get to find out your name." she paused. "Well, there's still a chance I might not find out your name. Seeing as I'm probably scaring you with the magnitude of words leaving my mouth." And the speed of them. She talked faster than anyone Mark had ever heard.

"Um, wow. You talk a lot, I guess. But you talk so fast it hardly takes any time at all. Um, you win. I'm Mark."

She blushed. "Um, yeah, I talk a lot when I'm nervous. Especially when I'm nervous would be better, I guess. Julius says I talk a lot to hide my nervousness. But I talk a lot normally, too. Just not this much."

"Julius? The cook who . . ."

"Threw me out? Yes. But he knows he loves me. Right Julius?" she bellowed the last two words at the kitchen door.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." he yelled back.

Mark gulped. "So you two are . . ."

"Us? Oh, god no. He's my psychiatrist. Plus, Julius is gay."

"Oh. I just thought -" Mark stopped, sensing this could become awkward.

Apparently Norah hadn't felt the same. "It's good you think." she replied. "I rarely do. This causes a lot of trouble for me. As it did two minutes ago." she gestured to the sauce on her shirt. "But thinking can sometimes be painful, and really, my brain is just not up to it, oftentimes."

Mark laughed. She looked pleased.

"I might have said this before, but my shift's over in five minutes. Then I've got a free hour, then it's back to work."

"Here?"

"No, the Catscratch Club." Seeing his expression, she noted, "I don't dance, I bartend. It's kinda a sleazy line of work, but it pays the bills." She shrugged. "I do need to pay the rent."

"Mark smiled. "I know the feeling. I once totally sold out to pay my rent. Sucks, huh?"

"Totally." she grinned. "I now only have two and a half minutes of work left. You wanna order? If it's quick, I can even bring it to you."

Mark grinned. "Yeah, sure. Burger, everything except onions, and coffee. Black. Please."

"Wow, that's really quick. You got it. Be right back." she walked away. Mark had to smile, he really did.

She was back almost instantaneously, not even leaving Mark enough time to collect his thoughts. He felt a little hazy. But in a good way. She set the plates down. She had a burger for herself, too, but not on a plate, and a coffee to go. He tried to say something, but she held up a finger looking at the clock.

"Yes. Now," she exclaimed, "I am done. My shift is over, Meg is here to take over. I can leave, enjoy your burger and coffee -"

"Hey." Mark interrupted. "D'you wanna sit down?"

She looked at him as if he'd asked her to do an Irish step dance, not sit down. "Um, sure, yeah. Okay." She sat down, looking not repulsed or resigned, but surprised. Mark bit into his burger encouragingly. She instead, opened hers up. It contained lettuce and tomatoes, along with the burger, cheese, and bacon.

"Oh, Julius, are you trying to make me hate you?" she sighed. She peeled them off, setting them in her napkin.

"What?" Mark asked.

"Julius has this idea that I should eat healthier. He's probably right, but I'll never tell him that. I don't eat veggies, so he tries to sneak them into my food. But I avoid alcohol, caffeine, refined carbs, and sugar." Mark looked at her. "Okay, so that's a lie. But still, I hate vegetables. And coffee. So I could never eat your meal."

"You have coffee in your hand." Mark pointed out.

"Oh, no. This is hot chocolate. Julius makes the best. But there's nothing else to put it in."

"Oh. I see." They finished their burgers in silence, but not uncomfortable silence.

"So, Mark said, drinking the last of his coffee, "You have about . . ." he checked his watch "Fifty minutes left of your hour."

"So I do." she replied. "You wanna do something during it?"

Mark grinned. "I don't see why not."

A/N: okay. Chappie 4: the fifty minutes. & pleeeeeeeeeease reveiw. I'll love you forever.