Who Lee Jordan, open for tags
Where Bella's Pockets
What Getting breakfast- uh, dinner... brinner. Yeah.
Despite the grim weather of the night before, a line still formed outside of Stellar Lounge with most of the waiting bundled underneath umbrellas and shielding charms, and Lee had spent most of it hiding in his office to nurse a migraine, unsuccessfully paper-pushing.
It was a little after nine when Lee finally locked up the backdoor, tripped over the uneven cobblestones on the sidewalk, and stumbled out into the lit magical London streets, and leaving the dance club in the hands of the day manager and her crew. Migraine gone, freshly peppy with more than three coffees in him, Lee figured that he had enough time to get dinner- well, breakfast- and go home for a quick power nap before he had to be back at Stellar for another round. He does not anticipate a big crowd tonight, being Monday, and hopefully with the setting being quiet, he can get some paperwork done and harass the accountant long enough to produce some sort of workable financial statement.
At that moment, his stomach decided that it'd be time for Lee to know about its hunger, and loudly reminding him that all it had to eat for the last two days were suspicious, left-over Chinese (Lee hadn't keeled over dead yet, so he figured that must have been alright to consume) and caffeine. Surveying the street and its shops before him, Lee weighed his options; he could go to the cafe and spend an unreasonable amount of money eating nothing or he could go to that nice, family-friendly restaurant called Bella's Pockets. Make that pretentious cafe, Lee thought and decidedly pass on that choice and entered the family restaurant instead. He hoped that they have pancakes.
The waitress who greeted him was perky, had a mouthful of metal, and spoke like she had two straws up her nose, but Lee liked her because she called him 'sir' and seated him by the window.