Someone New

Clea scooted back to the other end of the bar, the glass of beer in her hand steady as a rock as she set it down in front of the dark haired man sat there with a pile of marking in front of him. She’d been making sure they kept the French brand on tap for him since he’d moved to town and he looked up at her, his mouth hooked up at one corner with gratitude. ”Voilà!” she announced, waving a hand at the pint as she used a smidgen of her limited French. ”They’re just cooking your burger up, should be out in about five minutes.” Right when she was about to go off shift finally. She hadn’t had to open up this morning, thank God given the doozy of a dream she’d had in the middle of the night, but it was close enough for her taste. 10 right through to 6. The dinner rush was starting now and Clea was going to be beyond glad to be on the other side of the bar when it started. Finn bobbed his head to her, glancing at the service hatch before he took a sip of his beer. ”Merci beaucoup,” he murmured.

Clea winked back at him as she made her way back up the bar. He’d indulged her a time or two when an evening shift had turned sluggish towards the end, even taught her a couple of French phrases that weren’t meant for polite ears when she’d badgered him about it. By the time the after school gang started to filter out he’d probably be ready for a second beer, one to start to erase the Friday feeling. It was almost the weekend and personally, she had every intention to embrace it in a way that didn’t involve trying to track down someone she’d dreamt about. Last night’s dream, for the first time in a long time, had felt patently normal. No death, no blood, no dismemberment, just the bizarre combo of the Mystic Diner and a 6ft tall Cookie Monster raging because there was only pie and no cookies. Waking up Clea had found herself laughing, instead of trembling like she so often did when her abilities turned sleep into a minefield. If her brain kept it up this weekend she’d love it, crashing on the couch with screwball comedies for two solid days, popcorn, a beer or two she didn’t have to pour herself. Bliss.

Tonight, though, she was going to grab herself dinner here. She’d had lunch in one of the back booths, using the half an hour to finish up the literature review her PhD supervisor had requested of her. This time the meal was coming out of her pocket but Clea didn’t care, it was worth it not to have to cook, or to even have to pick the phone up and order take out. Spotting another customer coming in, Clea side stepped until she was standing in front of her. She propped her hands on the edge of the bar, studying the brunette. Not someone she’d seen around before. ”Hey, welcome to the Mystic Grill. I’m Clea, I’ll be your bartender for about the next five minutes. What can I get you?” Smiling at the woman, she peeled a hand off of the bar to gesture behind her like an air hostess. She could’ve plucked the menu from its holder to brandish at the woman but most who came to the bar were interested in a drink first and the food second in her experience.

Tagged: @johna * Word Count: 595