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Camille sighs, turning the page of her new book as she stands at the front counter. It'll be fine, there are no customers yet.
Probably.
"Camille!" Someone shouts, damn near sending Camille jumping out of her skin. "Get your head out of the clouds and start getting ready for the day."
She glances over at Laura, her boss, sister, and co-waitress, flipping her the bird and stashing her book under the counter. Some things never change, she knows, and her little diner is one of the most static places in the capital.
Rachel comes in, sidling up next to her with a small, private smile. Camille smiles back, holding out her fist.
Rae rolls her eyes fondly but bumps knuckles with her. Her matching nails and lipstick are a startling contrast to Camille's own terribly plain self, but their hair is matching shades of purple.
The day begins. They're not that busy, her little shop, but they manage to pay the bills and everyone they employ. This shift is busier than others, leaving Camille almost constantly run off her feet, but it's alright. Being busy helps the shifts go by, after all.
The day goes as it typically does- after the rush calms down, Camille gently goads Rachel and Laura into taking a break, knowing they won't be busy for a good while.
She's in the prep kitchen, letting a holo-vid of the news play on her phone while she mixes dough for bread when the bell on the door rings.
"Just a second!" She calls, covering the dough with one rag and using another to try and wipe the flour from her hands.
"Take your time!" A male voice calls back, and Camille ducks through the door that separates the front and back.
"Sorry about that," She says, looking up at the dark-haired man, watching as he sits at the table catty-corner to the counter. "Let me get you a menu, one sec."
"What can I get for your drink?" She asks, a few seconds later, swapping the menu for her notepad and reaching behind her ear for her pen.
He looks... almost startled, for a moment? Before his face smoothes out into a well-practiced smile. A... somewhat familiar smile.
"Do I know you?" Camille asks, tapping her pen against the corner of her mouth.
"No," The guy says, his well-practiced smile turning into a more genuine, boyish grin. His voice is super familiar too, what the fuck.
"Are you sure?" She asks, squinting at him. "Have you been in here before?"
"No, actually, though I'll certainly be coming in a lot more," He says with a wink, and Camille giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Well, what can I get for you?"
"What would you recommend?" He asks, pushing his menu away to lean forward on his elbows, closer to Camille.
"Well," She says, leaning all her weight onto one leg, "I make the bread daily, and our line cook makes everything to order, so all of it's good, but you can never go wrong with chocolate pancakes."
He taps his menu. "Then I'll have those."
"And your drink?" Camille asks, swiping up his menu from his table.
"Whatever your favorite is," He says, smiling. "And I don't have any allergies, before you worry."
Camille smiles, nodding. "Alright, give me just a minute to put this in and I'll grab that for you."
She goes back into the kitchen to drop the order off with the line cook, grabbing a glass to squirt cherry syrup into it.
"Cherry limeade," She says cheerfully, placing the glass carefully at his elbow. He's got his phone pulled out now, checking what looks like his email. "Just this side of tart."
The bell rings, signaling a finished order. "Let me go grab that," Camille says.
She dashes back into the kitchen to grab the guys order, ducking into the back to put the bread in the fridge. It'd still rise, just slowly.
Then she goes back out, carrying his plate in one hand and a bottle of chocolate syrup. "They taste great with normal syrup as well," she says, placing them both on the table, "but I prefer mine with more chocolate."
The guy just smiles. "That sounds perfect."
Camille invites herself to sit, crossing her ankles and tucking them under her seat out of habit.
The guy smiles, holding out a hand. "My name is-" he cuts himself off, wincing. Camille notices but doesn't say anything. Everyones got a past, and if things go the way she wants them to with this guy, she'll find out soon enough.
"Call me Al," the guy says eventually, still holding up his hand.
"Camille," she says, taking his hand and shaking it. "Are you new to the Capital?"
The guy- Al- shrugs, popping a bite of pancake in his mouth. "You could say that. My parents are from here, but I just got back from school. "
Camille nods understandingly. She'd pegged him to be around her age - not that she knew what her actual age was - but just out of Uni puts him directly in her peer group. Perfect.
They sit and talk for a while longer- about his schooling, things around the Capital, the state of the economy- and Camille finds herself smiling almost as much as he's left her thinking.
Al's responses are amazingly thought out between bites of chocolate pancake, joking and giving her serious, thought-provoking answers in equal measure.
"Can I borrow a pen?" He asks, well after he's polished off his pancakes. They've been sitting and talking for a while now- Rae and Laura are both puttering around in the back now, but no one has come in.
"Yeah, sure," Camille says, reaching for the purple pen stuck firmly behind one ear. When she hands it over, he grabs her hand before she can pull it back, scrawling something neatly across her palm.
It's a phone number.
Camille flushes, but plucks her pen from Al and takes his hand, scrawling her own number on his palm.
"Just in case it washes off before I get the chance to text you," she explains, at Al's confused look. "So you can text me first and keep me from second-guessing myself."
"Honest," Al says, admiringly. "I like it. Will I see you here tomorrow? Same time?"
"If you're asking me to a date in the diner I work in, the answer is no," Camille says with a laugh. "But I won't turn down your company if you're offering a repeat of today."
"I'm sure I could bring more than that," Al offers, "Like cards? Invite your other waitresses," He says, with a nod to the back.
"Oh, they won't play with me," Camille says offhandedly. "They say I cheat."
"You do!" Laura yells.
Camille laughs out loud, turning to face the counter. "You just can't lie for shit!"
"You're a goddamn dirty cheater!" Laura insists, appearing at the counter with her apron thrown carelessly over her shoulder. "Don't let her lie to you, my guy," Laura says to Al. "Camille cheats like hell."
"I'll have to tell for myself," Al says, teasingly. "But you're welcome to join us and prove yourself right."
"As long as my paycheck isn't on the line again," Laura says. "I refuse to lose my whole goddamn paycheck to a cheat."
"I'm not cheating!" Camille says, but she's grinning.
Someone walks into the diner, and they all stiffen, but Al ducks his head and says a quick "Gotta go, bye!" and leaves, shoulders bunched up around his ears.
Camille looks at Laura, who looks just as confused, but they get swamped and they don't talk about it for another couple of hours, despite their best efforts.
