Leaning back ever-so-casually in her seat, Fatima blew on the top of her cup of coffee (which wasn't that hot), allowing her eyes to take a quick survey of the room. She saw Patty buzzing around, and beyond her, a window into the kitchen where one of the fry cooks was standing, scratching his head underneath his hair net. Nothing interesting there.
She turned her attention to the patrons of the restaurant and noticed a sort of cute and floppy guy whose face seemed to be covered in either blueberry syrup or oddly misshapen and discolored zits. He also could have passed for a mannequin at Macy's, frozen as he was, looking right at their table.
"My two o'clock," she murmured, taking another sip of her coffee. "Probably not a Mosquito though. Lots of food. And a look that could get him cast in a horror movie in LA."