Who: Claire and Logan What: Claire meets the locals. When: Day after her arrival, afternoon. Where: The Cafe Warnings: Creepy Locals. Language.
Claire was getting more than a few life lessons this week, and that’s not even including the soul-crippling fiasco that had been her birthday. This place… it came with its own set of rules that seemed to go on and on, and had very little to do with the rules she’d already learned for the real world. Those had come mostly by trial and error, especially after mom left, leaving a traumatized and formerly sheltered thirteen year old girl to have her naivete shredded. The rules for this place?
Her gut told her to listen, and for the most part she did. Don’t go in the woods. Don’t go to the hospital. Definitely don’t go out at night. Claire maintained for a while, set up in the spare room in Hook and Ariel’s apartment, but the day after she arrived, she already started to feel trapped- not to mention a little weird about just eating the food the Captain had in their place. She’d wandered around the town square on her own for a little while, learning the layout more than just her quick run around with Hook the day before. Her stomach reminded her that even in alternate-reality Horror Town, she still loved a good burger, and the smell coming out of the first cafe she found was impossible to resist.
Claire ordered a bacon burger with cheese, plus fries and a Pepsi- glad to see brand names crossed through dark magic portals, too. The wait staff left something to be desired, though. Same vacant-eyed zombies she’d seen at the hotel, and milling around the town in general. Like talking to someone who’d just had a recent lobotomy.
Doing the math in her head after she was finished, Claire tossed a few crumpled dollars on the table from her back pocket and got up to leave. Four steps to the door however, a blank-stare waitress stepped right in front of her. Silent. And creepy as fuck.
"Not my type, sorry-" Claire tried to wind around the 'woman', who side-stepped right with her, causing the teenager to shuffle back a step, her brows furrowed, and a bad feeling in her stomach. The waitress pointed at the table she'd just left. Claire looked back at it, confused.
"You have to pay," the zombie in an apron said, hollow and weird.
"I did." Claire tried to shove her way past the woman this time, but was stopped dead by the fry cook suddenly standing behind her.