Farren Summers is not a babymaker (abusingsarcasm) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2014-02-04 02:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-10-02, castel, farren |
meet the good samaritan
WHO | Castel & Farren
WHERE | Outside of Starbucks
WHEN | Just past lunch
Her mouth set in a straight line across her face, Farren blinked at the patron in front of her. The look on his own face was one of intense concentration, as though he were debating the philosophical importance between getting a venti chai versus a tall caramel flan latte. The line was minimal at best and that was just about the only blessing paid towards this guy. After the fifth full minute of waiting for the guy to order, Farren started to step away from the register and let any one of the other baristas to take his order (when he was fucking ready, that is), but he moved closer to the counter as though he’d finally reached a decision. “So what’ll it be?” She asked, her tone dull and her expression blank, save for the annoyance that was twinkling in her eyes.
“You know, I’m thinking about the Tazo green tea. How healthy is that?”
“If you’re ordering it, then it’s about the healthiest thing you can do right now. By not ordering it and standing here and thinking about it. Not so healthy. In fact, that’s probably the worst thing for your well being that I can think of.” Someone should have known better than to hire Farren at a place where customer service was, you know, any sort of element. The way that her retorts would just spin off of her tongue like barbed bat-a-rangs was nothing short of art, not to mention grounds for termination. It just so happened that most people were so taken aback by her brazen attitude that they weren’t sure how to take her. Kind of like this guy in front of her now.
“I’m sorry?”
Sighing, Farren rolled her eyes. “Forget it.” She shook her head and reached up to slide her visor from her head. She caught the eye of another barista. “You tell him about the menu, because he obviously can’t read. It’s time for my break. Otherwise I might say something he’ll regret.” Her last words were said with a pointed glare to the customer in front of her. Who knew, maybe he had balls enough to report her to the manager. Guess she’d find out when she came back inside. Her apron was still tied around her neck and waist as she walked through the front door. She just needed a few minutes away from dumbassery, then she’d be just fine.
Her shoe scuffed against something soft and leathery, causing her to look down. A very expensive looking wallet was on the ground, so she leaned over to pick it up. She didn’t open it to inspect it right away; first, she glanced down the sidewalk to see if anyone was walking by. She spotted a dark-haired man from behind and decided it must have been his, so she began to approach him.
“Hey! Drop something?”