#hakkatourous

TO: KANDA FROM: LENALEE

The timely sands of her shift trickle down, a flurry of minutes, half hours, hours pressed flat beneath Lenalee's quick steps - here to this table, there to the booth by the window - back to the counter, then towards another table after a quick smile and chat behind the cash register, covering for another girl with the same dark hair as Lena pushes behind her ear after doling out another hot drink.

Sedate afternoon whips through the arc of her curls, plays across her skin.

"Enjoy!" slips off her tongue like a swift blessing even as her feet pivot back in the direction of her first customer, whose check she settles quickly with an warm, "Please let me know if there's anything else you need."

Regulars are easy to deal with, most of the time - and if they aren't (Lena shoots a glance at one of the booths out of sight of the tall windows, where complaints are already arising from a particularly picky patron), well, something (usually a particular server or dish) will placate them in the end.

For her part? Lenalee rather enjoys interacting with practically all of them, in spite of the way her feet ache in her flat walking shoes. The physical reaction satisfies in a way she can't quite describe, save for the glow it brings to her cheeks to work hard and give her family one less thing to worry about - save for the way her mouth never does hurt from smiling, as if it's always been better-suited to joy than malcontent - and save lastly for a blooming sense of peace, a visceral weight of fulfillment sitting easily along her spine as Lenalee pushes through a low swinging panel ('Employees Only') to lean against the other side of the counter, finally at rest.

(A full shift, she's nearly gone without a break longer than a few minutes.)

But only briefly. Lena's tray touches base on the laminate counter almost in tandem with the bell's tinny peal at the front door; her fingers are slender and deft, tips catching on the edge of her server's pad sitting in her pocket just as she looks up: oh, it's -

"Kanda!"

She hadn't expected to see him 'til class tomorrow, but this is more than enough of a lovely surprise with which to wrap up her work day. Her pen and pad slips back into her pocket as she cocks her head, still smiling softly; perhaps she'll ask if he'd like to go home together after she's clocked out.

"You look well," Lena observes, as though she's happy to see him so.

He always responds this way when you ask him anything personal; so defensive, so endearingly stubborn.

You make the choice to remain silent for the handful of seconds it takes you to scribble down a few lines in your notebook. You tip your pen to touch the familiar neutral smile edging at your lips, and answer honestly.