[ Ugly Mug Diner ]
Having supper outside doesnāt sound as appealing when you have to be on crutches and can barely carry your own tray, but Jess is determined to hold herself at least for one night without asking for any help. Sure, it might sound reckless but she has grown too mentally wearied only staying at home and feeling like a bruised fruit. At least sheās just one one crutch now but it doesnāt make it easy to slog around. Many has offered assistance but she has been denying them left and right until she has reached her final curb when one of her utensils falls to the floor with a loud clank. Jess looks down at it with a bitten lip for a moment, feeling tears come up to her eyes but she doesnāt want to attract anymore attention by having a meltdown. Instead, she gives up on her pride and taps the person closest to her. Strangers frighten her now, so she hopes itās at least someone she knows ⦠Or at least someone not sus.Ā āExcuse meā¦ā She mutters. Her British accent is stronger now with her mum around and watching her every move.Ā āCould you help me get another fork? Thereās a crowd of people there and I donāt think I can shoulder my way through. Please?ā She asks, timid.Ā
~~
nate hadnāt much to do tonight, a highly unusual occurrence. he typically had client paperwork to go through, notes to skim, adjust, and file, things he always brought home with him although he probably shouldnāt. nate just wasnāt.. well, like many others. as much as he enjoyed messing with people, finding pretty girls to hook up with, finding fights to start, or wandering a cemetary or park drunk in the dark -- he, simply, always ended up back buried deep in his work, trying to solve the puzzle. in fact, all he suddenly could think of doing was working on something -- anything. he had a few notes from his research on a slaying in california many years ago that he had taken and some papers he had printed out, telling himself he had to at least pretend like he genuinely cared about ābeing socialā or seeming like other regular people for the night -- just one night. thus, he found himself and all of his pieces of research, sitting in the diner, but still alone ( just as he liked it ).
suddenly, his train of thought was interrupted by a loud clang as a nearby fork fell to the ground.Ā āwhat the fuck?ā he asked, very audibly. people around him mostly definitely could hear that. usually, he wouldnāt be too sorry about that kind ofĀ āoutburstā as, at times, he could be extremely sensitive to sounds invading his headspace, but he saw a woman who seemed to be a bit inĀ distress.Ā āhmm,ā he hummed, an upward inflection in his sound to show it was a question to the girl tapping his person.Ā āsure,ā he assured her, a forced ( almost ) customer-service-like smile spreading across his mouth.
almost as quickly as she had asked, nate hobbled his large frame out of the booth and went to the counter to request another fork. after a few moments, he was handed one that he quickly returned to the stranger, taking his seat back at his own table but this time sitting half-turned so he could see her face.Ā āi promise that i did not touch the mouth-part,ā he joked, a moreĀ āgenuineā ( if you could call it that for nate ) smile now upturning the corners of his lips.
















