Teresa
Human
Hunter
Oh my smile is fragile; my heart is held together with string and sellotape.
Posts: 57
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Post by Teresa on Jul 22, 2007 0:01:02 GMT
Teresa 'smiled' and nodded, her dark eyes flicking between each of the four customers in front of her as they spoke, or nodded in the guy with the glasses' did. With an affirmative sound and inclination of her own head she went about getting started on the coffees, pulling out paper cups and a little cardboard tray to put them in (since the coffees were 'to go').
At the same time she served some trucker who wanted a sliver of pie and was looking at her like she was the shape of the kind of pie he wanted. She offered him a sneer and a slice of apple crumble with a dollop of cream; she couldn't break his nose like she wanted, which was a shame because unless there were a couple of drinks with her name on them in the bargain she didn't tolerate that look from random Joe's. The one saving grace was that she didn't have to walk past him and give him the chance to pat her rear as she went, restraining herself when they were just looking was one thing, when they got hands on that was another - most men seemed to be able to keep their hands to themselves by daylight though.
Returning to the four coffee-customers she popped the white lids on the cups and then tucked the cups into the cardboard holder and looked up. "There's extra cream and sugar in the basket." She said by way of a response and gesturing to the little wicker basket that did indeed hold complimentary extras for people to take with them. "Can I get you anything else?"
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Tasha
Human
Medical Examiner
Drive until you lose the road, or break with the ones you've followed.
Posts: 38
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Post by Tasha on Aug 26, 2007 22:20:23 GMT
Tasha glanced to the woman behind the counter, having glanced away as a blonde-haired young man rose from his seat and headed out of the door without a word — had he even paid? — and then considered the question. “Uh, can I get a cappuccino with extra sugar?” she asked, knowing it didn’t need to be a question, but she had been raised to be polite and pleasant, especially to those who were doing her a service that earned them a living. Tasha was a firm believer in the philosophy ‘treat others as you expect to be treated’ and just as she expected people at the M.E.’s Office to treat her with respect and consideration, she allowed others that same privilege. It was only right.
She glanced to Tony and the other CSIs at her side, silently asking them if they wanted anything. She was willing to spring for the coffee if any of the others wanted anything; she had already been intending to pay for the order for the Riveras, if only because she knew them better than the others who had accompanied her, and because it had been mostly her idea in the first place.
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Thatcher
Rogue Werewolf
Vampire Hunter
Whatever pain may come, today this ends.
Posts: 90
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Post by Thatcher on Sept 2, 2007 0:45:14 GMT
Continued from: Rayne’s Territory; Apartment Complex; Parking Garage.
As he stepped through the door to the somewhat small, independently-run café, having parked his car around the front where it would be protected from idiocy, he rolled his left shoulder subconsciously for the first time that morning since rolling out of bed, testing it for any lingering stiffness after the scrap with the vampires the night before. Until stepping into Lorraine’s, it hadn’t been on his mind, but something about setting foot in a populated place reminded him of the event, though he didn’t know why. One or two of the vampires in the fight had gotten lucky, landing an odd blow here or there during fleeting windows of opportunity.
One of them had slammed him back into a brick wall hard enough to at least partially dislocate his shoulder, but age and experience had helped him pop it back into place by himself. As ‘occupational hazards’ went, it had been minor on his part; easily fixed. Clean and manageable, as infuriating and uncomfortable as it had been at the time. It barely even ached now. The shower had helped.
Another one, on the other hand, had pushed his luck. The wound, slowly healing though it was, was still evident; a visible gash over his left collarbone, the silver of the blade slowing his regeneration, much to his chagrin. It had stung like a bitch at the time, and still burned a little even now, but it hadn’t been deep, and he had checked its condition before showering; it wouldn’t scar, at least. He hardly needed another one of those.
The wound was shown, at least in part, thanks to the wide, low collar of his shirt, and frankly, on a day as warm as this one, he was hardly going to wear a jacket; even with the faint scars around the lower regions of his neck and along his shoulders, it was just too warm to wear anything more concealing. He hardly cared if anyone, mortal or otherwise, saw the gash. It was the gun concealed below the loose shirt’s hem, tucked into his pants, that he wanted to keep hidden. It was a habit for him to put one there if possible, and he had done it before leaving his apartment without even registering it.
He had spared no expense to eliminate each and every one of the filthy undead bastards, as usual. And he hadn’t gone completely unrewarded, either. Some of the vampires, perhaps hoping it would look intimidating, had shed their jackets before the fight. After their wearers’ destruction, the pockets of those jackets had been searched, and subsequently emptied. After all, if he hadn’t taken the spoils, someone else would have.
At least Thatcher wouldn’t have to pay for his breakfast out of his own pocket. And in his world, that was what he called a win.
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Tony
Human
Departed
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same
Posts: 75
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Post by Tony on Sept 2, 2007 22:10:00 GMT
The waitress hadn’t outwardly reacted to the exit of the young man, Tony vaguely noting his vanishing act as his thoughts unknowingly followed the same line as Tasha’s. If he really hadn’t paid then he was sure something would have been said, and he wasn’t in the habit of jumping everyone who looked even slightly suspicious. The CSI left that to the more coffee junked up officers.
“Just a regular coffee for me please, sugar and milk, thanks,” he told Tasha, giving her a small bob of the head. He was sure that sooner or later it would be his turn to do the coffee run and of course when that time came he would buy the round for everyone. It was just what happened. The sound of someone else entering the coffee shop caught his attention but he didn’t turn, not wanting to stare at whoever may have entered no matter how curious Tony actually was.
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Thatcher
Rogue Werewolf
Vampire Hunter
Whatever pain may come, today this ends.
Posts: 90
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Post by Thatcher on Sept 4, 2007 0:19:39 GMT
Standing in the doorway was going to get him nowhere, unless you included ‘slammed in the back by the door’, and frankly, that option didn’t really appeal to the rogue werewolf. So he moved, striding away from the entrance to an empty, smaller booth along the wall, sliding into the seat casually after slipping his keys into the pocket of the pants he was wearing. He could still feel his wallet, claimed money and all, in the depths of his back pocket; he would have detected a potential pickpocket before they’d even reached into the confines for the leather prize, but it was still reassuring to feel it where he had put it.
His eyes wandered, taking in the group by the counter, letting the just-adequate air conditioning bring their scents in his direction, registering with curiosity the faintest traces of chemicals and gunpowder. Hazel eyes narrowed, one hand rising to hover over his mouth and chin as he regarded them discreetly, studying their postures and attire, and it was perhaps a leap on his part, but after a while of watching, he assumed they were some branch of police enforcement, even if not the actual cops-on-the-beat. They didn’t strike him as the types, so that left the investigators who collected evidence.
It didn’t matter, really, but Thatcher liked to have an understanding and awareness of his surroundings all the same.
While he waited for a waitress, in no particular rush really, he toyed with one of the salt or pepper shakers to the side of the table, pushing it slightly away from him before reaching out and pulling it back, mostly just to pass the time.
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Roxanne
Human
Departed
There is always a clue.
Posts: 52
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Post by Roxanne on Sept 4, 2007 0:33:01 GMT
Oh, right coffee. Coffee was good. Well, at least until the caffeine wore off and left Roxanne in a semi-coma, but all the more reason to get herself another cup. She flashed the waitress another smile and retrieved her wallet while she rattled off, "Just a small black. No frills for me, thanks."
The 'no frills' comment was aimed teasingly at Tasha. Roxanne didn't believe in 'girly coffee' -- no-fat mocha-latte-frappa-cappuccinos. Fah. Strong and black was the only way to drink the stuff. If you needed all the sugar, cream, and foam, then you really didn't like the coffee to begin with, in her opinion.
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Tasha
Human
Medical Examiner
Drive until you lose the road, or break with the ones you've followed.
Posts: 38
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Post by Tasha on Sept 4, 2007 17:49:52 GMT
Tasha smiled at the blonde woman good-naturedly. It could have been worse; a cappuccino wasn’t all that ‘frilly’, as drinks went, and it had a nice balance of milk, coffee and chocolate to keep her satisfied and content, so she didn’t see anything wrong with it. But then, she knew Roxanne was teasing her, so she quickly put such inner monologues to rest, reaching out to nudge down the blonde woman’s wallet.
At the same time, she lifted hers as a gesture; she was paying, whether Roxanne and the others liked it or not. Now all they needed was for Mike to decide whether or not he wanted anything — if he could bring himself to take coffee into his own precious car — and the waitress could complete their order before they got underway. Tasha didn’t want to keep the young woman from anything else she might have to do.
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Mike
Human
Departed
Sorting out the truth is a science in and of itself.
Posts: 57
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Post by Mike on Sept 4, 2007 18:08:06 GMT
“Plain black for me, too, please,” Mike requested, having figured he could let the others get their orders in before he spoke up with his. He was too busy glancing around, taking everything in, which could sometimes be a really bad habit in restaurants because he sometimes spotted things that he would’ve been much happier not having seen. That, he was certain, was one of the downsides of being with CSI. Once you knew how to look for tiny clues, you looked for them wherever you went, though naturally he wasn’t looking for evidence of a crime. He was looking for evidence of rats or bugs. Thankfully, he didn’t spot any of the little signs that would probably go unnoticed by most and he had absolutely no intentions of looking closer. That was someone else’s job. Luckily, though, Lorraine’s was one of the cleanest little diners the city had to offer, so he wasn’t particularly worried. What he was more worried about was someone spilling coffee in his car. That could lead to unpleasantness…
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Teresa
Human
Hunter
Oh my smile is fragile; my heart is held together with string and sellotape.
Posts: 57
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Post by Teresa on Sept 4, 2007 21:14:31 GMT
Only briefly as the door opened did Teresa split her focus and look up, the blonde punk left (the payment for his meal on the table she noted) and a new arrival entered but then went back to her customers. Repeating the order in her head she gave a sort of half nod and a brief but wholly not amused smile and then started to get the coffee together. When she came back with the regular coffees, adding milk to the correct ones, and saw that he was still standing in the doorway, although he had started to move by that time she gave an irritable sigh. Really, given how she was feeling that morning it only took something as small and unconnected to her personal space or wellbeing to tick her off. But she had customers to deal with at the moment so her temper would have to wait and remain in check. She could do that, it wasn't long until lunch now surely? She could handle it. The restless energy fought against the exhaustion for prominence but she could handle it.
The waitress added a cappuccino as requested to the order, arranging the little protective sleeves on the cups to save burnt fingers first and then sticking them all in another cardboard holder to keep carrying them easy. Finally she rang it all up in the till, assuming that having asked once if that was all they wanted then that was all they wanted, she could add other stuff if they remembered something like a Danish or whatever but she reeled off the cost evenly before reaching out and picking up a wad of napkins to shove down in between the coffees. It never hurt to have napkins around.
Her brown eyes looked at the cops expectantly.
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Tony
Human
Departed
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same
Posts: 75
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Post by Tony on Sept 5, 2007 20:01:40 GMT
Tony was watching the small battle of the wallets and trying not to smile at the antics of his two female friends. Sometimes, watching people ‘fight’ over who was going to pay was entertaining – it was always the most polite scrap possible, neither willing to give ground but at the same time not wanting to cause offence. He was curious to see how far each would push it or if Roxie would step aside and let Tasha carry out her original plan.
While a small part of him might have been tempted to spill a little coffee on the inside of the car, just to see Mike’s reaction he knew he would never deliberately go that far. Tony just wasn’t a real practical joker and anyway, the car was special to his partner. Which meant he saved attacks on it for the very rare times he truly needed to get back at the other man.
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Tasha
Human
Medical Examiner
Drive until you lose the road, or break with the ones you've followed.
Posts: 38
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Post by Tasha on Sept 5, 2007 23:57:54 GMT
Briefly, Tasha found herself wondering just how unsatisfied in her job the waitress was; she seemed so unenthusiastic, regardless of how well she was faking it. Like the CSIs, Tasha had been trained to look beneath the surface and catch the little hints; the little clues and traces that were invisible to the naked eye. The waitress whose name badge identified her as ‘Teresa’ seemed to want to be anywhere else, and yet, there seemed to be a sort of tension locked up in her limbs and muscles that she was reigning in. The medical examiner was momentarily curious as to why, before she reminded herself it wasn’t her place to wonder.
When the amount was announced, however, she flicked open her wallet and produced enough cash to cover the order, almost automatically yet still pleasantly adding ‘keep the change’ to the waitress. Sure, it wasn’t much, but the smallest gesture could mean something, Tasha had always believed, and while she wasn’t giving the tip out of pity, if she could help out, then it was something. She cast a smile to Roxie, and shrugged, as if to apologise for beating her to the payment, when really, she was in no way sorry.
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Thatcher
Rogue Werewolf
Vampire Hunter
Whatever pain may come, today this ends.
Posts: 90
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Post by Thatcher on Sept 6, 2007 3:03:53 GMT
The condiment dispensers didn’t hold his attention for long, too small and inanimate to really captivate him in the first place; his eyes had taken to wandering again, casual in their roaming but attentive and alert, as was natural for a werewolf, even one such as Thatcher who had only managed a few hours’ sleep before crawling off his bed and into the shower. That was just his way, practically nocturnal and yet not the type to sleep the day away. Whether it was his werewolf stamina or just sheer force of will that got him through the day on just a few hours’ rest, he didn’t know, and wasn’t about to complain; the longer he could keep it up, the better, both for his peace of mind and his ‘business’.
It wasn’t a business so much as a self-appointed occupation with a shaky steadiness when it came to leads and successes. Well, success was always his main priority; he never, never let a vampire get away. If they weren’t smart enough to skip town after a near-miss with him, then he had their scent and face stored, locked in his memory with crystal clarity, and when he did track them down, they were dust, plain and simple. Failure, as cliché as it sounded, was not an option. Not in his book.
Watching a brief dispute about payment at the register, two of the ‘cops’ with their wallets out before one beat the other to the finish, Thatcher went on to distract himself by slouching back in the booth only as long as it took him to dig the cell phone out of the depths of his side pocket, bringing the black, slightly scuffed device up to the surface of the table, flipping it open to check that it still had battery life, and whether or not he had missed any messages or calls. The screen, lit though it was by the automatic backlight, rewarded him with nothing new.
The rogue werewolf went on to idly spin the closed phone on the tabletop, not caring in the least whether or not he added a new scratch or two to the case.
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Roxanne
Human
Departed
There is always a clue.
Posts: 52
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Post by Roxanne on Sept 6, 2007 20:39:18 GMT
In a bout of childish randomness, Roxanne 'glared' at the medical examiner and poked the tip of her tongue out. Not that she minded Tasha's insistence on paying; it was nice not to have to front the bill. CSI wasn't the most lucrative occupation, but it certainly didn't leave a person waiting tables as a side job. The blonde CSI glanced briefly to the less-than enthusiastic waitress and, as a side-thought, pulled a few bucks from her wallet to drop in the tip jar by the register.
All right, so this 'Teresa' chick didn't look like the type who would appreciate a pity tip, so to speak, but Roxie new waiting gigs sucked pretty hard.
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Tony
Human
Departed
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same
Posts: 75
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Post by Tony on Sept 8, 2007 19:02:43 GMT
Tony lifted his hand up to his face, pulling the dark framed glasses from around his eyes before fishing out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and carefully started to clean the lenses, wiping away imaginary specks of dust that lingered on the clear surface. Only when he was completely satisfied that the glasses were perfectly fine to look though did he return them to his face, blinking a little as the world came back into focus.
The man who had come in behind them before settling down at a table was fiddling with something – a phone – and Tony couldn’t help but notice his actions simply because they were actions and the movement kept catching at the corner of his eyes. His attention was torn between his friends and the two strangers, the waitress and the man. Sometimes when Tony got really bored he couldn’t help but think up histories for the people he passed in the street and although he wasn’t at that level yet, his mind couldn’t help but play around as he waited.
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Tasha
Human
Medical Examiner
Drive until you lose the road, or break with the ones you've followed.
Posts: 38
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Post by Tasha on Sept 10, 2007 18:15:34 GMT
As the waitress got the money into the register, working out the change and putting it away accordingly after being told to keep it rather than returning it, Tasha slipped her wallet back into her bag, and scooped up the tray, hoping the others would take their orders from it so it wasn’t so hazardous to carry. It wasn’t actually dangerous of course, but balancing it, especially when getting into the car, was going to be a pain in the ass.
“Okay, I think we’re good to go,” she said, checking they hadn’t left anything behind, before she nodded towards the door. “Thanks,” she called back over her shoulder, hoping the waitress heard and realised she was being addressed. Tasha found herself wondering how much of her shift she had left, and actually hoped ‘Teresa’ got to head out and do her own thing soon.
Continued at: Main Streets with Tony, Roxanne and Mike.
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