Maeve had trouble with Cathair that morning. All her bruises and bumps from the New Years debacle had healed up quite miraculously (though she wished the same could be said for her shoulder). And then he had to go and tell her that he was going to be exceedingly stupid. So she had pretty much bitch slapped the Hell out of him – enough to leave quite the mark. He’d probably look like he’d gotten into a fist fight later even though she’d hit him open handed. And she’d sprained a finger doing it so her ring finger was bound.
And no matter how much she really, really didn’t want to go... Work was waiting for her. Still, she’d layered up a little so she could hide a holster and a gun so expertly it would take a metal detector and an x-ray to find it. And yet she looked totally comfortable. That was why she was so good at throwing clothes together. So far it had been really quiet.... And then it wasn’t anymore because there was a customer. Shit.
And apparently one that was going to talk a lot. Couldn’t just say ‘Vanilla chai with milk’. Oh no, she had to go explain the whole chai and tea thing. Mae closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to stay calm, to smile and be polite (the smile was strained. Very). “Right then, vanilla chai with milk,” kill her. Kill her now. Suicide please. Still, she went to fetch the tea... Why bother with the register when everything was likely going to be comped anyway. It’d get her to go away faster.