The Maid Café: Chapter 2
-Well, at least one person likes this idea of mine. Thank you to whoever it is. Sorry for the long wait.
-I should probably think of a new name for this Elsen (OC?) of mine. The one I like the best is Allie. Anybody disagree? Agree? (I'll change the name at some point.)
"Excuse me?" you ask. "I don't understand."
"You aren't?" Elsen asked. "Ah, then it was just me." You inwardly take a sigh of relief. It's shame that your denial disappointed the waiter, but you have to do what is necessary to protect yourself.
Elsen leaves your table and heads toward a booth across from you. This time he's talking to…a woman? You can't see her face clearly; her bangs cover her eyes. You observe her for a short moment. She's relaxed, happily laughing and pointing toward the window of the kitchen, at the chef. From time to time you can see the masked man looking up and waving at her.
Seems they know each other.
I wish I had someone to be friends with too.
Throughout most of your life you had few friends. College has not appeared to improve that count. After all, most of your peers are into majors such as math, science – you're the anomaly, it appears.
You hear a faint chime in the kitchen. Turning your head, you see that your omelet has been prepared. Elsen hurriedly runs to the counter, places the steaming plate onto a tray, and while he's running toward you…
…and trips over his feet.
Down goes the omelet.
Without thinking you leap out of your seat to catch the plate before it crashes onto the ground. While the plate is saved, the omelet definitely isn't.
"Hhhh…oh no…the omelet…" The waiter (maid?) is in tears over the omelet. You shift yourself over to face Elsen. "Shh, it's okay. Its okay. There, there." You give him a light pat on his shoulder. The sudden contact makes Elsen recoil. He looks at you with wet eyes, biting his lower lip.
Shoot, he's cute when he cries. Wait, why am I thinking this?
You give a small smile to Elsen. "It's okay. I can always, you know, come next time." At this latter remark Elsen returns the smile. "Really…?"
Your smile widens. "Well…" Actually, you hadn't planned to come here a second time. But if it was to take advantage of an offer of a possible free meal…you might think differently. One never refuses a free meal.
"Then…how about a free meal? As part of your trouble." Elsen asks.
Bingo.
"S-Sure." You say. Elsen smiles again. "Okay, now we should at least remake the omelet." You can only nod as you make your way back to your seat while Elsen returns to the kitchen.
You watch Elsen from your seat. Now that you think about it, if you're writing a review for this restaurant – this makes this establishment the first one where you visited, twice. If you're really coming back for that free meal, that is. Which is likely.
While waiting for the meal, you take out your notebook – using your arm as a shield, in case the maid attempts to be, ahem, nosy again – and continue to write notes. Setting up a quick table, you write:
Interior-Design
Service
Well-lit, good for casual eating
One maid – seems nervous
Art on walls is still-life, traditional paint
Shy, but willing to socialize with patrons (it's a part of the job, after all)
Surprisingly quaint for a maid cafe
Establishment may need to consider hiring more workers if growth is continued
…You think you wrote more than necessary.
"Here is your meal." You close your notebook with a thump. A plate of steaming omelet is placed in front of you. It looks…plain.
Before you can open your mouth to politely thank the maid, he asks, "Would you like ketchup?" You nod once again. Elsen takes out a squeeze bottle of ketchup. (It's the kind one uses to apply frosting on a cake.) He carefully traces out a picture of a cat on the omelet. "It's done," Elsen murmurs as he bows his head and draws back.
You examine the caricature of the ketchup cat. Its not as idealized a picture as you expected – the cat has wide eyes and extremely point ears. Almost as if something had just frightened it.
Taking your fork, you take a small bite out of the omelet. As you chew, you register the taste of the omelet in your mouth. It tastes a little spicy, but its quite good.
You guess you wouldn't mind coming back here. But you should make sure to wear a different outfit next time…After all, you came here to review this restaurant, not to patronize maids here. If you started coming here and were seen as a familiar face, that will be a problem. Said problem will only grow if someone from college sees you here. You can only imagine the endless teasing. "Dude, did you hear about [y/n]? I heard they're into maids!" Just. No.
Those were your thoughts as you continued to eat the omelet.
Back at home.
You take off your shoes and place your bag on bed. In hand is the receipt for the meal, with the words "valid for one free meal" scribbled on the paper. Written by the maid himself. You find a pin and stick the receipt on the piece of cork you have above your table.
"Oh no," you groan. That history paper? Still unfinished. And its due tomorrow.
"Time for another all-nighter," you mutter as you pull out a chair and open up your laptop. The night drags on as you continue to work.
