Saitoh’s eyes narrowed fractionally, as “KEN” announced that a new pot of coffee was in order. Apparently the little bantam rooster was fluffing his feathers. Saitoh would have been almost amused, except for the fact he’d been awake for nearly 36 hours.
Nodding slightly, he waited for “KEN” to turn his back on him, which was unwise at the best of times, and downright foolish when coffee was on the line, then reached over the counter with his long arm, grabbed the nearly empty pot that wasn’t being used had been simmering on the warmer for hours, and had liquid with the consistency of an oil slick, which suited Saitoh just fine.
“I’ll wait for that coffee, and finish this off for you, so it doesn’t go to waste,” Saitoh said with a smile that didn’t even come close to meeting his eyes. “You’re new here or work a different shift that I frequent. (Thank God for small blessings) Did you replace Susanoo-san or are you covering for her this afternoon?”
Saitoh actually liked Susanoo-san. She smoked the same brand as he did, gave him a pot of coffee without being snippy and was a huge fan of the New Meiji Samurai’s. During the playoffs he’d often stop by and they’d watch part of the game during the slower afternoon shift. Unlike “KEN” the older waitress was not “NEW” and had, after years of putting up with his constant demands for a refill, become someone that Saitoh would be willing to fall asleep around, unlike the current company.
There was something off about “KEN” that he couldn’t put his coffee cup on. For one thing, the man was too cheery, he smiled too much. Generally speaking, Saitoh detested optimists as he believed they were indulging in false hopes and fanciful ideals rather than facing the all too harsh light of reality.
“KEN” however did not strike him as your run of the mill wide eyed optimist. There was an edge to him; problem was that Saitoh couldn’t tell if it was the edge of a slightly bent butter knife or something else.
The woman on the other hand was a bit easier to get a bead on.
While Saitoh didn’t give a dead rat’s ass what she thought about him, he was intrigued about her whispered inference that he not quite tame. (Lady, you have no idea…) Perhaps she was a better judge of character than he’d initially assumed.
Saitoh glanced at her as he took his sludge and a cup and sat down at a booth, his back to the wall. Inhaling the nearly burnt, acrid liquid, he poured himself a cup and started drinking.
no subject
Nodding slightly, he waited for “KEN” to turn his back on him, which was unwise at the best of times, and downright foolish when coffee was on the line, then reached over the counter with his long arm, grabbed the nearly empty pot that wasn’t being used had been simmering on the warmer for hours, and had liquid with the consistency of an oil slick, which suited Saitoh just fine.
“I’ll wait for that coffee, and finish this off for you, so it doesn’t go to waste,” Saitoh said with a smile that didn’t even come close to meeting his eyes. “You’re new here or work a different shift that I frequent. (Thank God for small blessings) Did you replace Susanoo-san or are you covering for her this afternoon?”
Saitoh actually liked Susanoo-san. She smoked the same brand as he did, gave him a pot of coffee without being snippy and was a huge fan of the New Meiji Samurai’s. During the playoffs he’d often stop by and they’d watch part of the game during the slower afternoon shift. Unlike “KEN” the older waitress was not “NEW” and had, after years of putting up with his constant demands for a refill, become someone that Saitoh would be willing to fall asleep around, unlike the current company.
There was something off about “KEN” that he couldn’t put his coffee cup on. For one thing, the man was too cheery, he smiled too much. Generally speaking, Saitoh detested optimists as he believed they were indulging in false hopes and fanciful ideals rather than facing the all too harsh light of reality.
“KEN” however did not strike him as your run of the mill wide eyed optimist. There was an edge to him; problem was that Saitoh couldn’t tell if it was the edge of a slightly bent butter knife or something else.
The woman on the other hand was a bit easier to get a bead on.
While Saitoh didn’t give a dead rat’s ass what she thought about him, he was intrigued about her whispered inference that he not quite tame. (Lady, you have no idea…) Perhaps she was a better judge of character than he’d initially assumed.
Saitoh glanced at her as he took his sludge and a cup and sat down at a booth, his back to the wall. Inhaling the nearly burnt, acrid liquid, he poured himself a cup and started drinking.