Log: Marta and Patrick Who: Marta and Patrick What: Breakfast Where: Diner by the motel When: Sunday Morning Warnings/Rating: Unknown! Will update if/when needed. But it's Marta, so...
One week on, two weeks off - or was it three? Either way, their weekly breakfasts hadn't had the best start, but Marta was hoping they could get back on track. Or onto the track in the first place, as she didn't really think they'd ever been there. But Patrick said he'd show up, and she wanted to believe that was true. So she was sure to be at the diner as early as she could.
If she was being honest with herself, she would've admitted that she'd set the alarm extra early, just so she could be out of her room as soon as she possible. She was almost certain that she wouldn't see the motel owner so early in the morning - especially since she'd seen him so late the night before - but she didn't want to take that chance. She was able to be up and showered, plenty of time to haul out the coverup she needed and to dig out the long-sleeved shirt with the holes in the cuffs that she could pull down over her hands and hook her thumbs into. It meant she didn't have to have her wrists showing, and she didn't have to try to put makeup there as well. Plus, she could curl her fingers around the cuffs to try to hide if her hands started to shake.
The weather was warming up enough that even in the early hours of the morning, she could get by with just a hoodie thrown over the shirt and the tanktop layered beneath, no need for a jacket. Especially since her only real jacket at the moment was the oversized parka that Patrick had seen her in the last time. The lack of puff and fluff betrayed the too-lean lines of her limbs, even if the hoodie was sized to fall past her hips and wide enough to fit another of herself inside. She was able to slip into the diner sometime between last-call bar patrons on their way home and what counted as the breakfast "rush". Claiming the same booth as they'd had the last time, she sat facing the door, tucked into the seat's corner, watching for whenever Patrick (hopefully) arrived.