Within a matter of minutes she'd bore witness to a number of expressions crossing his perfect features, all of which however were associated with pain and utter disdain. She sighed as he expressed his need to tip well and though she wished to argue with him reguarding the high dollar amount she knew it best not to, he obviously was not the type to argue with. It was however as she glanced down at his hand upon hers that she did in fact notice the lack of nail beds on his slender and strong fingers, she'd seen many things and many types of hands. Untouched, perfect and polished, scarred and calloused from hard labor with solid earth practically embedded into the skin, and even on a few farmers and war vets, no fingers at all. She'd also seen every type of nail bed imaginable to a human being, but never before had she seen a hand without any, and she was curious. He pulled his hand away and began to mutter something about the excellent quality of his drink and she ingored that much, it didn't matter to her. What mattered was the varying types of supernatural humans that attended, she tried to recall just what Desmond might be classified as, and when she could not remember she finally gave in and gave up.
Passing the large and unnecessary tip to her fellow co-worker Beth explained that it was a tip and it was all hers. Jami was the type with big dreams of moving to New York and held dreams of attending the famous ballet school there, but her parents could not afford it, thus she dreamed of scholarships, and used the money earned from here to supliment. She only had one more year til graduation and then she'd be working to make her dreams a reality while dancing under the bright lights of New York City. Grabbing a rag Beth went about cleaning up the coffee shop where tables were free and she also wiped down the service bar that offered cream and sugar for the basic coffee drinker who did not prefer the harsh and bitter tones of a robust coffee. She smiled however, thinking of her father and the way he loved his coffee, black, three sugars whereas her mother preferes her coffee just as Beth did, with a lot of cream and sugar. Danny didn't like coffee. He was the only one she'd ever met that did not enjoy at least the aroma of it. Maybe that would change, but thank God he was not here now because not only did her hands smell of the golden bean that kept the world buzzing, but her hair and clothes did as well.
Walking past Desmond's table Beth quietly whispered to him, "you're allowed to be different without hating yourself, you've done nothing wrong by being you and you're right, the coffee is wonderful here...you actually ordered my favorite drink." She smiled softly before continuing with her work of refilling the service bar, followed by washing out and refilling the creamer pitchers.