Something was out to get her, she was absolutely sure of it. Some cosmic power had decided that she made an excellent punching bag, and was warming itself up on her daily routine. That was the only explanation Teagan could come up with for her watch to be suddenly running fifteen minutes slow (other than the fact that she hadn't replaced the battery in ages, of course). This meant she was fifteen minutes behind the rest of the world, and that she'd probably be at least twenty minutes late for the closing shift work instead of the usual five, unless she skipped lunch.
Teagan wasn't the sort of girl who skipped lunch. Sparing herself precious minutes at home, she decided to grab something at the coffee shop. It was en route to the bookstore, and a caffeine boost was sorely needed if she hoped to endure yet another lecture about timeliness from her shift manager.
She ordered coffee (or rather a double-nonfat-iced-cinammon-latte-with-splenda), a bagel with cream cheese, and one of the obscenely overpriced little fruit and cheese trays where the "fruit" consisted of about ten grapes and a couple of apple slices. None of the pre-made sandwiches looked appetizing, so her choices were limited. This was an ill-thought move on her part, since juggling everything required more than two hands, and she couldn't exactly eat it all while walking. So she would have to sit down.
By the time her order was up there weren't many seats left. Her choices were a gabby older couple, a table already full of hipsters who'd likely protest any attempt to join them, various customers with space-hogging laptops, and a much older man reading a paper.
The latter, at least, had left some room on his table.
After a moment of indecision, Teagan went over to take the empty seat. Rather than asking him out loud if she could use the vacant side of the table, she tried to be as discreet as humanly possible about setting her things down. As if she might luck out and he wouldn't even notice her presence until after the deed was done. Wasn't it always easier to ask forgiveness than it was to ask permission, anyway?