Said waitress—very young, nervous thing named Orana—seemed to be attempting to handle both the flow of customers seated throughout the café and at the counter. She was … failing pretty miserably at it. Fenris kept an eye on the college student while he handled making coffee, waiting for her to inevitably make a mistake. It came suddenly, as he suspected. With too many plates and cups piled on her tray, she didn’t notice a customer’s laptop bag on the floor in front of her. He anticipated the fall before it happened, though how he actually made it over to the girl that fast was anyone’s guess. Fenris caught her around the waist before she pitched forward too far, balancing the tray with his other hand.
Orana was thanking him profusely, but he wasn’t listening. It was a little embarrassing just how much he worried about the girl sometimes—that he could feel this responsible for someone and not know why. Maybe she reminded him of what it used to be like having a sister who actually gave a shit. That left a sour taste in his mouth.
Any of the customers who turn to stare, slack-jawed at the near-spectacle quickly looked away when Fenris leveled a glare at all of them. If this ended up on Twitter he was going to be so pissed. But with Orana back behind the counter, the crowd had started to thin significantly. It gave him plenty of time to fix the order and bring it out to the customer himself.
"Do you ever sleep?" Was how Fenris greeted Rosalind, setting her coffee down on the table. She came in so often he wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was Not at all! I’m a robot, actually. The world was crazy enough. Something like finding out one of their most frequent customers was a cyborg wouldn’t faze him much.