07-19-2015, 07:50 PM
When Claire emerged from the kitchen, she loitered about the work station at the bar. The barista steamed a fresh carafe of milk and set it aside. Claire watched dully, leaning against the station. She idly wondered if one of the two soldier-boys, or thus she was going to call them, would call her. It wouldn't keep her awake at night, but something about them tweaked her interest something fierce. Tony had the potential and handsome enough features for it, but he was too laid back, too laissez-faire, to be more fun than teasing. Michael had the right amount of danger, on the other hand, and much closer to her age, but he was far too boring to pursue. His passionless gaze made her yawn. Pretty much everyone she'd encountered at Kallisti were not in her league. They made for fun work and fine tips, but to spend longer than an hour with one would be a nightmare.
Her gaze finally roamed back to her tables. John and Koloman kept talking, probably about Africa and how big their dicks were. A mousey looking guy with a huge dimple in his chin that looked like a face-crater was obviously striking out with a slender brunette he was with at a nearby table. Interesting to watch the disaster unfold, but they lacked the tell-tale signs of needing a waitress. An older balding man with a rim of gray around the sides of his skull slurped on noodles and browsed a flat wallet-screen as he ate.
A couple of new comers finally made their way inside. Older men, yes, but not so much as the balding slob. She waited for them to pull up their own table-top menus and place their own orders. When instead they looked around absently, Claire screwed her best fake smile onto her lips and went over to hold their hands.
"Hi there!"
She greeted, dredging up the enthusiasm to sound perky. "My name's Claire,"
she said in case they were illiterate and couldn't see the obvious nametag on her skull-studded shirt. She touched finger tips to the table and the menus rippled to life. "We're out of cod, unfortunately,"
she warned, although the menu noted that the fried item was unavailable. "Do you have any questions?"
She waited and resisted the urge to let her eyes drift elsewhere.
Her gaze finally roamed back to her tables. John and Koloman kept talking, probably about Africa and how big their dicks were. A mousey looking guy with a huge dimple in his chin that looked like a face-crater was obviously striking out with a slender brunette he was with at a nearby table. Interesting to watch the disaster unfold, but they lacked the tell-tale signs of needing a waitress. An older balding man with a rim of gray around the sides of his skull slurped on noodles and browsed a flat wallet-screen as he ate.
A couple of new comers finally made their way inside. Older men, yes, but not so much as the balding slob. She waited for them to pull up their own table-top menus and place their own orders. When instead they looked around absently, Claire screwed her best fake smile onto her lips and went over to hold their hands.
"Hi there!"
She greeted, dredging up the enthusiasm to sound perky. "My name's Claire,"
she said in case they were illiterate and couldn't see the obvious nametag on her skull-studded shirt. She touched finger tips to the table and the menus rippled to life. "We're out of cod, unfortunately,"
she warned, although the menu noted that the fried item was unavailable. "Do you have any questions?"
She waited and resisted the urge to let her eyes drift elsewhere.