All Nite

01 | Overnight

Technically, the diner is named the Midnight Griddle, but no one ever calls it that. That particular sign burned out ages ago, and even when Lusine's manager finally arranged for repairs, it held up the old sleepy red glow for maybe an hour before it fizzled and died again. The menus don't even say the name, they just proclaim BREAKFAST across the top of one side, and LUNCH across the other, no matter the time of day.

It's probably a curse. It doesn't do much to keep away the regulars, though, so the owner hasn't bothered to check, and none of the waitstaff or management are paid enough to work off the clock about it. Everyone just calls the place the All Nite—since that neon sign hasn't so much as flickered since Lusine got the job—and they leave it at that.

Lusine has two jobs at the All Nite, the way she sees it. Waitstaff, and therapist. She's heard from her friends who bartend that it's about the same on their end. Lusine figures it's a perk of working overnights. People just get weird past twelve in the morning.

Stray, the ghost semi-permanently affixed to booth 16 in the backmost corner near the kitchen door, doesn't talk all that much, but he isn't exactly good for business, either. He pays exclusively in cursed gems.

(Lusine has a guy for that, though. She's the only one who takes Stray's table without a fuss.)

Currently Lusine is hovering on the later edge of the night shift before it transitions properly into the over night shift, meaning that she actually has other waitstaff on the floor with her. Not for much longer, but- it counts for something, at least. It's Loa, tonight, and her girlfriend Branwenn. Loa is seafolk, and a gigantic nerd as far as Lusine can tell. She typically keeps a book in her apron along with her notepad and pen, usually either something historical or a thriller, depending. Branwenn doesn't bring her own distractions, but that's mostly because she doesn't need to. If Loa isn't right there too, she'll find something to fixate on, someone to annoy, or some drama to poke. Like-

"Table six, Lusine?" Bran calls cheerily from the menu stand.

Lusine looks up from stacking cups on her previous table with no small degree of suspicion. She knows the table locations without needing to think, so her eyes light on the offending couple without much issue, and she narrows her eyes.

"Loa should take them," Lusine hisses, skipping up to the menu stand. "It's her brother."

"We're off shift in fifteen," Loa says mildly from the counter, her accent lilting the words almost songlike as she turns the pages splayed underneath her chin.

"But-"

"And you know that those two are going to be here most of the rest of the night," she adds, reaching to push her hair back. "It's more annoyance than it's worth to pass the table over."

"She just doesn't want to get flirted with," Branwenn hums, a wooden coffee stirrer sticking out of her mouth like a cigarette.

"I don't mind flirting," Lusine says firmly. "In general. But does he have to do it right there in front of his boyfriend? It's messed up."

"They're not dating," Loa says with a smile. "I told you last time he was visiting."

"And I still think you're insane to believe that," Lusine snorts.

Loa shrugs. "They've got their own way about them."

That's one way to put it, Lusine supposes. She sighs. Well, at least the pair of them typically tip very well. "Do I need to bring menus over?" she asks, resigned, and Loa shakes her head.

"Miro already took some on his way past."

"Of course he did," Lusine mutters, and then she turns.

"Be nice to my brother, please," Loa sing-songs, but Lusine pretends not to hear.

She grabs the coffeepot on her way over, because she vaguely remembers- ah, yep. The elemental who always sits with Loa's brother perks up when he sees the pot, sheer relief on his face, and Lusine doesn't even bother to ask before she fills his cup.

"You too?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at Miro and waggling the half full pot in a hand. He shrugs, so Lusine goes ahead and pours his full as well. "Need a minute with the menus?" she tries. It should be neutral enough to avoid comment.

"I know what I want," Miro says lazily, leaning his chin on one hand while he pours creamer with the other. "Though I usually do, now, don't I?"

His companion - Ree? Maybe? - hums lightly, still eying the menu and apparently content to let Miro dole out creamer for his coffee, too. Apparently, the fish knows how he likes it. "You do," Ree says without looking up.

Lusine taps her pen off her pad, out of habit rather than impatience. "If you need a sec, it's fine. I can grab drinks at least."

"We'll share a milkshake," Miro chirrups, and that at least makes his companion glance up, raising an eyebrow. "You need the sugar. Trust me, I know things."

Miro shares Loa's accent, of course, and he manages to make that musical tone sound simultaneously firm and playful. Lusine would be impressed, if he didn't ruin it by tossing a wink her way. Considering the way that Ree looks at Miro after that, the wink would be better served in his direction.

"Chocolate? Vanilla?" she manages to keep her own tone dutiful and not doubtful.

Miro squints, then. "Strawberry?"

Lusine nods. "We can certainly do that."

She retreats, leaving Ree to make his gentle protests to his apparently-not-a-date without her interference.

Ariela waits at the counter, already blending by the time Lusine approaches.

"His voice carries," Ariela says warmly at Lusine's questioning glance. "Playful pup. I like him."

"You would." Lusine manages not to roll her eyes.

"Bring them a slice of pie, too? On me. His friend there always looks so skinny."

Lusine thinks he might just be skinny, but she isn't about to argue with her manager. Not about something silly like that, at least. She shrugs, lifting the lid on one of the pie stands and plating a slice of blueberry. By the time she has it, Ariela is done with the milkshake, and they arrange the plate, the glass of milkshake, and the metal shaker of overflow onto Lusine's tray along with a couple of straws.

"Boss wanted me to bring the pie," she says with a vague gesture towards the counter as she clinks the plate down by Ree's elbow. He startles slightly, blinking up at her as Miro stifles a laugh, probably at the expression on his face.

"Oh," he says, tone soft. "She- that isn't necessary."

"Very much appreciated, though," Miro interrupts, grinning. If Lusine weren't used to Loa's jagged shark maw, she might be unsettled, but- that's just how seafolk smile. It only feels like a threat. "Look, it matches me!"

He holds a hand out, and sure enough, the shade of the blueberry mess in the pie manages to look fairly close to Miro's dark purplish-blue scales in the somewhat lackluster lighting.

Ree laughs, a short sort of sound, his paler blue cheeks going a shade or so darker, and Miro's eyes glimmer with something like satisfaction.

The fish turns to Lusine, then, apparently having exhausted his current intent to flirt, and says, "Do you have a sampler platter sort of thing? I want to try all the fried appetizers and I can't seem to decide."

Lusine raises an eyebrow, but- "I'm sure we can do that. Might be a bit more than any of the apps individually, though."

Miro waves a hand absently through the air, already handing the menu back to her. "Not a problem."

She nods, then turns to Ree, who is still staring with mild dismay towards the pie. "I don't... uh. Just- pancakes? I guess?"

Lusine nods again, takes his menu as well, and retreats while Miro tears off the paper end of one straw to blow-dart shoot the rest of the paper at Ree's chest with startling accuracy. Ree blinks, and then chokes into another small laugh as Miro's expression goes catlike with satisfaction.

Lusine looks away. Well. If they aren't dating, they're certainly something.

When she gets closer to the counter, she notices Ariela wincing and waving from the far end, so she picks up her heels a bit, hurrying over and slipping behind the vinyl countertop with practiced ease.

"What's-"

"Big to go," Ariela says with an empathetic sigh, her red lips almost pouting. "Look."

Lusine glances to the door, noting only now that Loa and Branwenn's coats have disappeared since the first time she went over to Loa's brother's table. Bastards. But- more importantly, standing dutifully next to the doorway is a clockwork construct, hands held out in patient expectation in front of his torso.

Lusine suppresses a hiss. Goddamn wizards. There's a circle that meets one witching hour a month, by some calendar Lusine cannot seem to track, and every time they send one of their familiars or constructs to pick up an obscenely large order to bring back to whichever tower they're having the meeting in on that particular night. Which- business is business, in theory, but the bastards never tip, so it's always however much extra work without even the flicker of extra reward.

She spends the next twenty minutes or so helping Ariela and Faon, the cook, pack everything together and ring up the order, pausing only to run over the order for Miro and Ree in the middle. Lusine watches the construct meticulously count out the exact change for the order before it hands the money to Ariela, and then it turns without a hesitation or a word to clomp out the door and into the night.

"Well, that was a real peach," Ariela hums, though her round cheeks and general air of happiness make it really hard to hear the words as sarcastic. She sighs, then, running her hands down her apron before she glances towards Lusine. "Earned us a little break, I think. Milkshake for yourself? A mocha, maybe?"

Lusine considers that, then quickly counts out days in her head. "Too close to the moon for chocolate, I think," she says, her voice a bit more stilted than she'd prefer. She clears her throat. "I'll just take a coffee. Could use the boost tonight."

"Tired again?" Ariela says, her brows going up above her currently gold-painted lids. "Sweetheart, you-"

"I know," Lusine sighs. "I'm not just not sleeping on purpose, you know."

"You aren't doing yourself any good, sweetheart, that's all," Ariela says gently, pouring a cup of coffee and pushing the sugar towards Lusine. "I know you miss-"

"Stop."

"Avoiding it isn't-"

"I said stop, Ari." Lusine pulls the cup closer. "I'm not used to the nocturnal thing yet. That's all. Just- let it go."

Ariela watches her for another moment, clear tension in her round frame, and then she huffs a breath and relents. "Alright, alright. But you're getting a slice of pie, too, young lady."

Lusine frowns. "Oh, please don't give the fish another reason to flirt with me."

Ariela cackles, ignoring her to dish out a slice of lemon meringue. Lusine tries not to be flattered that the woman remembers her favorite. "I think you could do with a bit of flirting, sweetheart. Get you out of your funk! Back out there in the dating pool, even."

"That one isn't in the dating pool," Lusine snorts. "His boy is sitting right across from him."

Her eyes flick to the booth in question as she speaks, and to her horror Ree seems to have noticed the conversation, his own face wincing with something like pained surprise. At least, Lusine notices, Miro has made himself scarce in the interim; he's off at the booth in the far corner with Stray, apparently chatting him up, instead.

Lusine stiffens, and then on instinct she snags the coffeepot and hurries over, apologies spilling from her before she can really think them through. "I am- that was- so inappropriate of me, I am-"

"I'm not his-" Ree winces harder, nodding frantically as Lusine gestures with the pot to his half-empty mug. "I'm not his- boy," he manages, watching Lusine pour with his cheeks extremely dark. "It's not- it isn't like that. I'm not his. He's not- mine."

His shoulders sink, then, something almost like defeat on his face, and Lusine has to shake herself to make sure she doesn't just keep pouring after the mug is full. She fills Miro's mug too, for good measure.

Because-

Fuck.

(Half the goddamn job is therapist.)

Lusine- sighs, and sets the coffee pot down on the table next to Ree's. She leans against the booth seat where Miro was earlier, setting a hand on her hip as she gives Ree a more frank look.

"Loa mentioned that you weren't a couple, actually," she says, and Ree blinks, his cheeks coloring again at the word couple. "Said you had your own thing, or something like that. So maybe I was being rude."

Ree pauses, then gives a wincing sort of smile. "It's... alright. You aren't the first person to- assume. And- what Loa said, that... yes. That's fairly accurate."

"That's why you don't mind him flirting his brains out with anyone he meets?" she tries, and at that, Ree huffs a wry little laugh.

"I wouldn't mind that even if we- were," he says. "That's just... how he is. How he talks." Ree smiles, glancing sidelong to where Miro seems to be cackling wildly with the ghost in the corner. "He likes people. He likes to play with words, and he likes to flatter. It's just how he is. I wouldn't want that to change for anything."

Hm. Lusine tilts her head. "I don't think I've ever seen the two of you not together," she says, lightly.

Ree's face softens, but there's still a vague pain, there, as he subtly watches Miro, pushing what's left of his food around his plate without eating it. "He's good to me, like that. He doesn't have to be here, still. He could be anywhere."

"Loa says he likes to keep on the road," Lusine agrees. "Always going somewhere. Her mothers have to practically bribe him home, sometimes."

"Mm," Ree agrees, and then he finally tears his eyes away from Miro to fix his fresh mug of coffee, sighing. "He... yes. I try to encourage him to go home, now and again, but..."

Lusine waits, but this train of thought seems to be doing something to Ree's forehead. The furrow there looks pretty well pained. "You ever think that he just... prefers being with you?"

Ree looks up, quick and almost panicked, and Lusine tries a shrug. She can see Miro out of the corner of her eye starting to stand, and- that won't exactly help the situation, so, she tosses her next words out before he might overhear. "I figure, if someone actually liked me enough to stick around- unconditionally, you know? If someone tried as hard to make me laugh as he tries to make you laugh, I'd hang on tight. Maybe... find the time to go home with him, or something. Might be good for you."

Ree just blinks at her as Miro flounces back over. He doesn't touch her, though he holds out what she thinks of as a dancer's hand, skating around her personal space as he slides back into the booth with a fwumph. "What did I miss?" he says with a smirk.

"Refilled your coffee," Lusine says, not missing a beat. "Did either of you boys need a box?"

Miro waves his hand again, making a tch sort of noise. "Nah, we'll be picking at it for hours while Ree does his bookworming."

Ree doesn't deny it, and Lusine figures that she's gotten in the way more than enough, so she retrieves the coffee pot and retreats back to the counter.

Ariela raises an eyebrow. "Alright, sweetheart?"

"Everything's fine," she says. "They'll probably go through another pot of coffee between them before dawn, though."

Ariela gives her a look, but lets it go. Thankfully, she seems to have abandoned the idea of getting Lusine back in the dating pool, at least for now. Lusine knows that particular luck probably won't keep up forever.

Well. If it lasts the rest of the night, she'll be happy enough. Last thing she needs is her manager trying to set her up with random customers. Or- coworkers, if Lusine is particularly unlucky.

Nights, in general, aren't empty, but they aren't usually bustling, either. A lot of time slips through the cracks while just... waiting. Waiting for people to arrive to complete their party, waiting for people to decide what they want, waiting for food to come out, for folks to be finished eating, for them to pay, for them to leave. Waitstaff becomes almost comically literal, as a label.

It still isn't easy or boring, though, at least not most nights. There's almost always an extra quest to undertake, as Ariela likes to term it. Wipe the inevitable syrup off the menus. Put together an offering for the broonie that's been taking up residence in space underneath the oven. Help Faon with prep. Polish the sliver, polish the counter top, clean the windows, scrape the gum and curse and food residue off the the undersides of the tables- everything the day shift people don't have the time for. Or- that they say they don't have the time for, at the very least.

Lusine doesn't actually mind the more laborious... well, labor. She enjoys a task where she can see the results of hard work. The silverware always looks like fucking jewelry when she's done going at it with a rag. Hell, it looks silver enough to kill her, stainless steel be damned.

The midnight clientèle is more varied than Lusine expected when she first took the job. Sure, some are former barhoppers who need something greasy and slash or starchy to soak up the booze (nothing against them, either, they're often an injection of enthusiasm into otherwise dragging evenings), but there's other types, too. College kids, looking for somewhere to pull an all-nighter besides their own dorms, or regulars with overnight or extremely early jobs of their own, with limited available meal options, considering the hour. Lusine likes both groups, though the college kids can be a little manic, certain times of year.

Also, occasionally, kids a little younger than college age.

This particular table currently houses a pair of boys who can't be much older than fifteen, if Lusine had to guess. They're definitely related, with matching freckles on their brown cheeks and similarly wavy hair, though one of them has it longer and tied back, the other a very slightly messy mop. Brothers, Lusine assumes. Maybe possibly twins, considering the nearly identical way they look up at her when she brings over the menus. They diverge in a moment after that, though, with ponytail slipping into a lazy grin and the other one straightening, and smiling much more politely.

It's not exactly among Lusine's stated duties in her job description to play curfew officer, so she doesn't acknowledge their age out loud. Extremely not her business. She'll just have to hope they tip halfway decent.

Besides them and the ghost and the college trio cramming for a test in the corner, there's not much to do besides - frankly - eavesdrop on the kids as she rolls silverware in napkins for the morning shift tomorrow. Bunny will probably pout at her for doing part of his job, but- well, it isn't like morning shift isn't busy enough already, and it doesn't hurt to get out ahead of it. He appreciates the gesture anyway, she knows. He's kinda cute when he pouts, anyway. No harm.

These kids very clearly snuck out, which... again, Lusine isn't a fucking cop. That particular point is so thoroughly not her business. She knows pretty quickly that the pony tail one is named Roscoe, but only because his brother hissed at him to be polite at least twice already, which means that Lusine has mentally labeled them Roscoe and Polite. Which seems fair.

They went dancing, tonight. Lusine thinks, probably, that at least Roscoe is a little bit drunk. They might both be, but it's harder to read Polite on that point. Polite is drinking coffee, too, despite the time of night, so even if the kid is a little tipsy, he's combating it like a champ.

When Lusine ducks to check on Stray and bring him another cup of... whatever weird ghost vapor Faon whips up in the back, she turns around to see-

Roscoe in the doorway, the bell jangling above his head, dragging Polite along behind him as he bolts out the door.

Without paying. Obviously. Lusine even looks to the table instinctively just to make sure they didn't just need to leave in a hurry while preferring cash. Wishful thinking, but ultimately unhelpful.

And- okay. Alright. She admits, privately, that she's pretty fucking pissed about the situation. She always tries to give kids like that the benefit of the doubt, and here's that to rub her snout in. She- realizes, moments too late, that she's growling. Her apron is already untied and one of her hands has held it out for Ariela to take while she moves purposefully towards the door almost without thinking.

She falters for a step, glancing to check her manager's face, but Ariela looks equally stormy, and she just raises a brow and says, "Well? Go on, then! Scare 'em off, at least, if they aren't gonna pay!"

The growl settles in Lusine's throat. She doesn't feel entirely in control of it. She nods firmly, and then moves. Speed is a liquid thing, easy in her heels these days, and she's out the door in less than a breath. She turns, knowing the right way to give chase without knowing how, and she passes in front of the diner's windows like a shot. She moves for the alleyway, and-

Nearly collides with the teenager rounding it back towards her.

She skids, slips sideways, finds herself in a crouch as the kid yelps and hops a step backward, planting his shoulder into the brick facade behind him with a second yelp.

Lusine registers recognition, and then she rises to her full height, that growl redoubling in her throat.

"Wait wait wait," the kid (Polite, of course it's the Polite one, why wouldn't it be) chimes, raising his hands. "He started pulling me and I panicked I'm sorry, I didn't want to actually-"

After a beat, Lusine's adrenaline spiked vision clears enough that she can see the money in one of the teenager's upheld hands. She inhales through her clenched teeth, and then she- forces her stance to loosen, at least enough where she isn't giving off the distinct impression that she's about to start biting. No matter what nonsense is going on at the moment, giving in any more to the wolf than she already has tonight would be... a bad idea. She's confident about that, no matter the rest of the situation.

She hasn't quite contained herself when she opens her mouth to speak, so when she says, "What did you think you were doing?" it comes out in a heavy, guttural snarl.

Polite winces hard, his shoulders raising towards his ears. "It was Roscoe's idea, he told me to get up and I didn't know what he was doing until he grabbed my hand and-"

The anger flares again. "That brother of yours is going to get you into real trouble if you're not more careful," she growls, putting a palm flat to the wall above his shoulder. He cringes again, and Lusine- notes the twinge of guilt, and reels herself back in. She imagines that her eyes are doing the thing, again, and it tends to be outright... unsettling, in this sort of light. She exhales more slowly, and then she says, "No matter how polite you are."

The boy swallows, and then he shoots his hand out towards her. "Should be- this should be more than enough. Enough and then some. Please. I am so sorry. He just-" his brow furrows, his lips pursing with something between worry and annoyance. "He doesn't think. He just- does whatever he wants and I- I'm sorry, ma'am."

Lusine inhales, exhales, inhales, exhales again, each breath growing steadier. She drops her hand from the wall, reaching to take the money from the kid's hand. He doesn't flinch at that part, though his entire expression is fixed in a sort of prolonged wince. She watches him for a moment, counts out the money (far, far more than the bill. The ostensible tip on top is more than double what the charge would have been), and then looks up at him again.

"... what's your name?" she says, half sighing as the rest of the wolf bleeds out of her stance, adrenaline fading entirely. "I know the other one. Didn't catch yours."

"Alumn," Alumn says, ducking his head. "I... was that... enough? I thought it was, but- I have mo-"

"Little life lesson, kid," Lusine says, rocking back on her heels and throwing a hand through her hair. "If you're out on the streets in the dark with a stranger, maybe don't tell them that you have more money, regardless of the situation." She raises an eyebrow at him, and he winces again before nodding very firmly. "It was more than enough. To the point where I should really give some back so I don't feel like I'm taking advantage-"

"For the trouble," Alumn says quickly. "I feel- I feel awful. I don't know why he does things like this, I don't know how he doesn't feel just- awful," he says again. He pauses, for a moment, brow furrowing, and then he glances up. "How... did you know we were brothers?" His inflection tips up, almost a trill, and Lusine snorts a laugh.

She gestures to him, just as a general indication. "Same eyes, same nose, similar frame, hair texture, hell your freckles even look-"

Alumn blushes under his freckles, clamping his mouth shut before he huffs a laugh of his own. "I- well. Alright. I suppose-" he purses his lips, then shrugs almost sheepishly. "I shouldn't be surprised, really. We're not identical, but we are twins."

Called shot, Lusine thinks but obviously does not say. She nods, instead. "Well. Your mirror image there is going to get you into some real trouble, the kind you can't buy your way out of, if you're not a fuck of a lot more careful."

The kid blinks slightly at the profanity, which is maybe not surprising considering the deep pockets and the vague air of blueblood, and then he frowns into a sigh. "I know. I do know. And- I wasn't trying to buy my way out," he insists, sounding slightly affronted. "I- paying for our tab properly isn't buying out, I should very well say. And anything on top- well, it's just polite to tip, isn't it?"

Hm. "I suppose so," Lusine agrees.

There's a chime of noise from behind her, and Lusine turns to see Ariela leaning out of the doorway, peering into the dark.

"Alright, love?" she calls, voice warm and worried.

Lusine sighs, and glances down towards Alumn, who seems to be very much wincing again, apparently expecting this to coalesce into even more trouble.

"Misunderstanding," Lusine says, taking pity, feeling soft when the kid's expression thaws into relief. "All handled, no harm no foul."

"Oh, good!" Ariela smiles wide, looking over Lusine's shoulder and aiming that smile towards the kid, too. "Glad you're alright, sweet pea," she says, and Alumn squirms, seemingly resisting the urge to scuff his feet off the sidewalk.

"I'll be right back in," Lusine assures her, and Ariela nods with an affirmative noise, slipping back inside and letting the door chime again as she disappears. She turns back towards Alumn then, frowning down at him as he blinks up at her. "Now. Kid. You could have run away when I turned my back, and you didn't, so that's a bit of a confirmation on your... whole feeling of apology."

"I... don't actually know if I could have run, ma'am," he says, meekly. "I did see how... fast you ran, coming after us. I wouldn't have gotten far, I know that."

Lusine pauses, then laughs. "Fine. Fair enough. Regardless."

"I am sorry," he says again, ducking his head. "Truly."

"I can tell," Lusine says, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't have to come back, either. It's not like you knew how fast I can run when you ducked out."

"I just-"

"Have a hint of a moral compass," Lusine says. "You don't have to explain that, you know. It's not something that usually requires explanation."

Alumn winces again, and then sighs. "I know."

Lusine watches him for a moment, sheepish and cowed, and then she tips her head to the side. "Look. You two aren't supposed to be running around in the middle of the night, I assume?"

Alumn hesitates, but he shakes his head after a beat. "Not as such, no."

"Sneaking out and having fun. That's... normal teenager stuff. Alright? I get that. And if you need somewhere safe that isn't plying you with alcohol sometime past midnight..." she sighs. "The All Nite is basically made for that. Don't be a stranger. I'm here most nights, and Ariela will welcome you back even if I'm not."

"But..." Alumn furrows his brow. "But Roscoe-"

"Was prevented from active thievery because you turned around. This time. You're welcome back. Just-"

Lusine plants her hand on the wall above the kid's shoulder again, leaning down and letting just a hint of the wolf back out.

"Do not make me regret it," she says, and then she leans back away again. "And we'll be golden."

"Ah... right," Alumn says, a little breathless, and Lusine gives a grin before she turns away from the kid entirely, waving a hand in a lazy salute over her shoulder.

"See you another night, Alumn," she says, and she's back in the door before she hears any response.

The door jingles behind her as it closes, and Ariela glances up from the counter. "Misunderstanding, huh?" she says, raising an eyebrow.

"One of the two wasn't a shithead," Lusine shrugs, moving for the cash register to close out their bill. "Which counts for something, I guess."

Ariela tips her head thoughtfully to the side, her lips pursed. "One out of two isn't a bad ratio," she says. Lusine shoots her an incredulous look, and she gives a shrug. "I mean, better than both of them? You didn't get stiffed, I mean. That's a win!"

Lusine doesn't like the way her heart feels, with the adrenaline draining from her system and the beat slowing back to normal. "Sure," she says, finishing the transaction and shoving the remaining handful of bills into her apron. "If you say so."

"You okay, sweetheart?" Ariela says, after a beat, leaning her plump arms on the counter with a concerned frown. "You seem-"

"I'm fine," Lusine says, trying to focus on something other than her own body. She would grab the coffee to bring over to the college kids, just for something to do, but she can see even from across the room that two of them are locked in a heated debate about something and the third is passed entirely out on the table. Stray doesn't drink coffee, either. Not a tactic that's going to do her any good.

"Are you sure?" Ariela presses, though her tone is still gentle. "Sweetie, it's alright if-"

"I don't like feeling like that," Lusine snaps. "I just don't. I'm fine. I'm just catching my breath."

Ariela watches her, silent and patient, and then she squints. "That was... three different answers, hon."

Lusine clenches her teeth. "All true! Can we drop it, please?"

There's something near to pity on Ariela's face, then, and it sends a pulse of shocking fury through Lusine's stomach. She almost, almost growls again, but she catches the noise and holds it between her teeth instead, and turns away entirely to go find something else to do. Wipe down menus. Fine. Whatever. Whatever works to make the rest of the night go by.