Tea Time (open)

Within the kitchens of the Honey Honey Maid Cafe lurked a figure so diametrically opposed to every quality William Locklear possessed that the man may have shuddered to think that she was washing his dishes, let alone planning to wait upon him. Where he was well read, she barely touched a book since she fled her boarding school. Whereas he was a neat-freak to the point of banality, she was the type to forget the last day she washed (although she'd been forced to scrub up for her current part-time employment). Finally, the most obvious: while he'd come here to relax and spend his money on a pastime, she had come to work as a matter of getting the money she needed to pay for food for the day.

Ordinarily, the Maid Cafe would have had no business with her. After all, this place served a certain clientele. Some preferred busty blonds, some preferred the archetypal Japanese beauties, some wanted the exotic flair of a girl with a partial animal quirk, like a girl with cat features- the classic. Almost none of them came in looking for a seven-foot tall, grungy, relatively poorly endowed red ogre with a rectangular head, an under-bite, a slight lingering odor, a dull wit, a short temper, and most notably: enlarged forearms that each weighed roughly the same individual weight of some of the girls on the payroll here. All of these together made her a very poor choice for a floor waitress.

At this time, however, one of their lead girls had ended up in an unfortunate argument with an overly forward patron... the resulting explosion had ruined a table and not only had the girl stormed off, but she'd also ended up knocking out two girls at the same time. Three hands down, they needed all the hands they could get... even overly large, calloused red ones. With good money suddenly on offer, so long as the one looking for it didn't mind putting in extra work and dealing with the unruly customers.

That had sounded up Bashira's alley when she read it, but had ended up much less so. One would only have to look at the girl, dressed with a white, frilly maid's hairband, her white, disheveled hair lightly combed to be the neatest it had in some time, but with red horns still peeking out from the bangs, to know she didn't fit the standard. Because her arms defied any conventional sleeve, she had to go with the bare-collared version of the black blouse and white apron combo... while the immodest neckline looked good on a lot of girls, all it showed off here was her relatively unimpressive bust and long, stringy musculature. The skirt looked coquettish on her, ending just at the knees and showing off white, thigh-high stockings, but this was only because she was so much taller than the waitress she was replacing. All-in-all, she felt even goofier than she looked.

The sourness was evident on Bashira's face as she exited the kitchen, carrying a clipboard between two giant fingers, rather than in her full hand like an ordinary person would. She got all the way to the table she was supposed to be waiting before realizing she had forgotten her pen... and even if she hadn't, she'd have a very hard time using a conventional one, given the size. She had practiced it before, but the average pen had a tendency to simply snap between her fingers. Cursing her mistake with an overly audible "crap" in earshot, she resolved to simply remember the man's order instead.

Most of the waitresses would probably give pause to see the handsomeness of a customer such as William; a loner, seemingly an intellectual, with a manner of dress indicating wealth and rugged, but sexy, features. Bashira recognized a different type in him: all that gold, combined with the sullen behavior, made him look a little like the kinds of above-the-law criminals she hated as a matter of course. Still, she knew the bare minimum of this work was not to accuse or threaten customers, so she put on a low frown (a hair better than a snarl) and turned her beady yellow eyes upon him. "Alright customer... my name's Bashira and I'm yer hostess for the day," she grumbled, hating the standard introduction and failing to replace it with anything worthwhile. "It's my job to provide good service and whatever else yer wantin'. You've seen the menu, right? Yer readin' somethin' else, so you must have already looked," she assumed, crossing her arms and tapping her fingers. He may have just imagined it, but there was a sound a little as though she'd just accidentally snapped her clipboard in half without realizing it.

Of course, the first item on the menu: all orders were supposed to come with a free appetizer, that being a smile from the cutesy waitress. Bashira had given no such amenity yet... it was up to William to decide if he wanted it enough to bring it up, and furthermore, if he wanted to demand another waitress who'd help him enjoy his idle time a little more conventionally.

((WC 862))