I've never worked in a restaurant before, in either life. I have done retail, however, and it's about as frustrating as you've heard.
Familiarizing myself with the menu, with the layout of tables, I've managed to get some decent tips amongst the muck. One particular table annoyed the fuck out of me: bunch of dumb preteens didn't tip at all. But I smile, and I turn my customer voice on, the one that makes me sound like a masculine woman on the phone. If I had a dime for the number of times I've heard "Do you want fries with that, ma'am?", I wouldn't need this job at the Mystic Grill.
The blonde manager, Rhonda, hasn't stopped giving me funny looks all day, watching me like a hawk. Her expression when I handed her the sealed letter from the desk of the mayor himself was priceless. Whatever was in the letter, as well as my interview, must have convinced her that I'm worth hiring. I need to push the favor for the Lockwoods up to the top of my projects, I think.
My first encounter with one of the – gang? Team? Group? What do I want to call them? Ooh! – squad happens at around five that afternoon. In walk the neurotic blonde and the girl most likely to become the most powerful witch on the east coast. My two favorite characters in the whole damn show sit down at one of my tables.
My shame knows no bounds; I almost squeed.
Making my way over slowly to give myself time to think – social anxiety at its finest – Caroline already has locked eyes with me. "Hello. What can I get you two ladies?"
"I'll have my usual." She says it with such precision and finality that I'm a little bit stunned. The girl has issues with control, but does she really expect someone who's clearly brand new to know what her order is in advance?
I have a new appreciation for the Mystic Grill, I think, if they can memorize orders like that and attract regulars.
"Uh."
Bonnie stares at her friend with an irritated look. "Sorry for that. You're clearly new here." Caroline suddenly jumps and glares at Bonnie.
"I'm sorry," she takes a look at my name tag, "Logan. The House salad with a drizzle of light Italian dressing, no croutons, extra cheese, no ham, and a medium Diet Coke." She speaks fast, and it takes a long moment to get everything down.
Bonnie completes her order, thankfully from the menu directly. No weird tastes.
"Our friend Elena is on her way, she's a little late, but she'll have her usual." When I stare at Caroline with utter incomprehension that she made the same mistake again, she frowns. "Right. Sorry. It's been a long day. She'll have..." Elena's order is even less food than Caroline's, and I'm wondering if there's some reason for that.
I reach out to take the menus from Bonnie and deliberately brush my finger against hers.
Her eyes widen in surprise, a little gasp escaping her lips Caroline raises an eyebrow; she's always been very intuitive, so maybe she's noticing more about Bonnie's slowly-developing magic than she let on?
"Sorry, didn't mean to shock you," I mutter. "Let me get your orders ready, and your drinks out. Let me know if you need anything else." I turn quickly after a smile, wondering just what exactly the girl saw or felt.
Witches are naturally more intuitive than others, able to glimpse or sense things about others from mere touch and possibly even sight. Psychometry is a skill that Bonnie never really harnessed, but it's one of the things that Megan practiced early and crafted into a skill to combine with her occasional flashes of the future. Seers are rare, and seers that can control their craft to any meaningful degree are rarer. Given my own limitations, harnessing that psychometric skill is something that doesn't seem immediately useful for me. I don't want to have to flood my system with magic from stored items every time I shake someone's hand or touch an object, now do I?
When I bring back the drinks, Elena is already seated, and wow. The Doppelganger. Her entire existence depends on some asshole trying to make himself immortal, and the spirits getting in the way to make it balanced. The blood coursing through her veins is potent, a binding agent of the greatest kind, and damn.
I'm careful to hear their conversation as best I can. Vamp hearing would be great in situations like these.
"… like something horrible." She stares intently. "It's… like what Grams said. The comet-"
"Brings impending doom." Caroline rolls her eyes and glances toward me as I approach, then shuffles obviously. Makes me think they were talking about me, which may or may not be a good thing.
"Here you go." As I drop the drinks down, I look toward Elena and attempt to ignore the look on Bonnie's face. Clearly, I've upset her. Going be interesting when I get to sit down with her and Sheila soon. "Already took care of your order, ma'am. Your friends were kind enough to order for you."
"Thanks." Her voice and the look on her face are a mask to hide her grief. I remember that face well; I used to wear it all the time after my actual aunt died. For what it's worth, she does seem to be happy; she just met Stefan, so it's helping. But the wound is still there under the surface, and no boy'll change that for her.
"I couldn't help but overhear," I state. "Were the three of you talking about the comet?"
Bonnie immediately perks up, training her attention on me earnestly. "What do you know about it?" Her lip quivers with worry.
I must have really freaked her out.
"Not much. My family back home always talks about celestial events like this, about how important they are, about how they might be omens. Never really put much stock into it. Magic doesn't really make much sense to me." All three of them are looking at me now with nearly the same expression as Bonnie. "Anyway, gotta get back to work. But if you want to talk to me about it," I glance toward Bonnie pointedly, "I get off at eleven."
Caroline's eyebrow twitches, and the tense moment is broken as Elena smirks at Bonnie.
Fuck.
Did I just… hit on her?
Oh god.