Post by reilly halina blake gordon on Apr 7, 2020 10:22:15 GMT -5
Reilly couldn’t particularly say she enjoyed the days she worked. If it was quiet enough that she got to spend some time chatting with Penny then the day wasn’t so bad, but typically the booths were full, people were waiting to be seated, and someone always had something to complain about. For some reason, they always seemed to think Reilly would care about their dissatisfaction with their meal that was too cool, or didn’t come with enough on the plate. Then they were bemused when she did little more than shrug and blink at them as she asked what they would like her to do. She’d take it back to the kitchen if they asked, but Reilly wasn’t the type to go above and beyond for someone who would complain about excess mayonnaise. Reilly probably shouldn’t have been in the restaurant industry, or really any industry that worked with the general public. She had no patience for them. However, doing something with her time besides college kept her out of trouble. Her psychiatrist had helped her to identify that boredom led her to trouble, and lots of it.
She was clever, had always been so, but if she wasn’t challenged, wasn’t occupied, then her mind went looking for a challenge and her past had proved that she didn’t exactly look for a difficult puzzle. She had chased danger, been attracted to mayhem, and the only thing that stopped her from total self-destruction had been the emergence of a PTSD she never thought she would have. She had been a kid when the car bomb exploded on that Russian street. She hadn’t thought about it in years, barely recognised the scars on her hand and wrist. She had asked time and time again why it had taken so many years for the mental illness to emerge, but all the doctors had only shrugged and told her that these things were different for every individual and that no one would be able to give her a definitive answer. Reilly, quite frankly, would have just like any answer.
She was shuffling menus as she glanced at the afternoon bookings. There was nothing for the next two hours unless anyone walked in. It wasn’t uncommon to end up with a restaurant full of walk ins, but something about the spontaneity of it bugged Reilly. She wasn’t typically an organised, routine loving character, but when it came to work, she wished people would have the decency to book ahead of time. It would at least help her predict what the afternoon would bring. She looked up when she heard the door opening and a devilish smirk crossed her deep red lips. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bats out of the Batcave. Come to bless us humble citizens?” Reilly’s tone for teasing and mocking was one and the same. It made it difficult for others to decipher when she was happy or pissed off. Shifting through the menus and dropping most of them to the podium, she raised her eyebrows at Kam. “Party of two?” She asked, trying to gauge if there was going to be anyone with him. Reilly hadn’t seen him or Marina since the night she had wound up at his place, doing a good deed, and wanting to wash her clothes in return.
• • •
TAGGED! Kameryn Timothy Van Beuren
WORDS! 556!
LYRICS! Chasing Ghosts - - - Against The Current
NOTES! <3
