'Afterimages of You' (The Waitress and Ruby Version)

 [Alternate Text: A very red-hued image of a hand reaching out to a wall and creating a shadowy double of itself that is seemingly reaching back. It's in shades of red and black, likely from a red light source that's helping to cast the shadow. There's something both scary and sad about the shadow. The title is: 'Afterimages of You' in a white font with a dim, black shadow behind it.]

This Mal POV is set during TFS: Book One, Chapter 7 when the MC can learn the second letter of their name, the A, by finding it intimately placed on their to-go cup.

For this writing, the MC is also romancing R. Verner. 🖤

So, that's why they're called 'picture windows'.

The uninterrupted spans of glass frame the outside world into beautiful landscapes that aren't broken up by wood paneling or choppy blocks. The Fernweh Diner has a hefty AC bill due to all of the natural light pouring in through its windows, but it was a design choice. This lets the retro eatery seamlessly blend into the town while providing views of Fernweh. 'Crystalline' is the best way to describe the diner's windows thanks to its servers' rigorous buffing routine.

It's all picture perfect.

To Mal, you're a one-of-a-kind masterpiece.

The red frame falls away along with the lady boisterously laughing at a book in the booth in front of your window. It's yours now. She doesn't care for the foreground, middle-ground, or background, only its subject that's strikingly gorgeous even with that distant expression on your face which could suggest tiredness. If this 'visit' has been taxing, imagine how your future stay will unfold. She does rather frequently.

When you distractedly move from your window to claim another, she flawlessly pivots to watch you seemingly transcend each work of art. You aren't alone this time. They are all here. It—

"Mal, they're gonna get cold."

Clyde's voice tears her away from observing you when his trusty spatula taps the edge of one of the plates Mal is balancing. Her smile turns more polished at the interruption to curb how she nearly drew blood from her tongue. "No one likes cold buttermilk pancakes," she agrees.

"Exactly!" Clyde enthusiastically replies, although he doesn't immediately return to the griddle. He casts a furtive glance between the entrance that's being filled by a large party and his lonesome server. His grin widens. "That's your table though, alright? I saw that look, tiger. Go get 'em—after you deliver my special, 'kay?"

Mal indulges the line cook's camaraderie before leaving to deposit orders along the bar while still paying close attention to who's coming in.

It's primarily you who merits any focus, but she mentally strikes off a list as each person files inside. Some names are neatly crossed out, others are scored through thrice. She pours a customer extra syrup during the wait. It's James who gains a modicum of her respect for not allowing you to enter inside of the dining establishment last, a slight no one else knows.

She would have you enter first or at her side.

Always.

"That's, uhm, enough…"

Mal just thoroughly drowned this poor woman's pancakes in a shallow puddle of syrup. Her thumb is still on the tiny lever that controls the opening turned floodgate. She leans closer, resting her elbow on the counter in time with her lips curving into something more charming. Her gaze strays from you for the first time. "You like it sweet, don't you?"

There's something sinful in her honeyed tone, but oh-so-sweet that makes the woman balk.

"I sure do."

"Lucky me," Mal murmurs. "I'll be happy to comp it for you, regardless…"

She moves on before her customer gathers her wits or musters up the nerve to speak any further.

Finally, your little gang has arrived within the diner, although it looks closer to a processional when you all loiter in the aisle to work out seating arrangements. Again, she can't help but think of where you'd sit in relation to her. You would be on her right side out of both respect and so she could keep her hand occupied with yours. Mal sighs.

"Bethany, could you help me with a drink order, please?"

The younger, less experienced server nearly stumbles when about to pass by her because Mal's back is still to her, yet she perfectly timed her request. Mal can feel her wide-eyed look before she turns around to transform that into a rapid nod. "How kind," she notes. "You'll be preparing: a chilled glass of chocolate milk, a medium black coffee, a small coffee with cream, sugar, and a shot of espresso… I'll handle the rest, but I will be approving the final order. Understood?"

"Uh, where's the table's ticket?"

Mal doesn't pause in gathering a still-warm mug for your hot chocolate; it lacks any chips or stains. It's a pure, snowy white; however, it won't do for the final drinking vessel. She'll need a paper to-go cup that can be easily marked up by her. "Why?" she asks. "Why do you want it?"

"Because it's a lot to remember," Bethany reasons. "I could check them off as I go."

Mal's smile doesn't falter while she finishes mixing your blend, never daring to use the dry powder, but a blend of molten chocolate and the high quality syrup that Trent raved about. It's also from sustainable cocoa. "In our line of work, it's best to have a long memory. Practice with this one, and I'll help you, if needed," she assures Bethany.

With Bethany all settled with the easier drinks, Mal continues to perfect yours, even needing to disappear to one of the underused drawers to secure your chocolate. She keeps it there for when you'll stop by. It's a semi-sweet bar that helps to balance the creamy sweetness of the drink. She makes the mistake of glancing up to check on you while grating the artisan bar.

You're settling into place by the Verner heir, trading a look with her that's quietly amused, but you no doubt made a choice to be by her.

By her side. Together. Nearby. In her grasp.

Ruby says something before turning to peer out the window, purposefully angling in a way that highlights her features. She is inviting you to admire her—the angles, the sunlight on her fair skin, the way the lighting illuminates her blue eyes to make them ethereal, the subtle way she's smiling for you above anyone else. If Mal can see all of that, then what about you?

An inkling of warning spurs her to stop before her skin makes accidental contact with the grater, shearing it. The chocolate shavings she was creating in a tiny bowl to sprinkle is now a small mountain. She'll have to replace the bar that's now a warm strip of chocolate that has subtle indents from her grip. Mal doesn't mind.

You deserve the very best.

She collects the bowl, delicately sprinkling the shavings atop the whipped cream of your hot chocolate. All of that artful consideration is then hidden away by the plastic lid Mal snaps into place. Next, she collects a pen, raising the cup into view with a scrutiny that most people would know not to disturb. The placement is crucial, except imagining where your lips will come to rest on this undeserving, cheap paper product tempts her to keep going—to get lost in what could be. They're so kissable, and the drag of them against her bare skin is what she yearns for. The sweet decadence of the hot chocolate has nothing on future traded kisses.

Mal is taken by the idea of you, the potential.

She writes an 'A' near where the lid meets the cup, just below where your lips will rest to enjoy a sip of the drink she made for you. It's discreet yet intimate. She'd never let the black ink graze your soft lips; however, the prospect of an indirect kiss entices her, nearly causing her jagged penmanship to stutter. It's a start.

While your roles in Fernweh do differ, this is a reminder of your private, two-person game.

She studies the next letter of her name to ensure the ink won't stain you before concluding it's finished. Dragging a thumb over it was unnecessary. Paper lacks the same give and plumpness of flesh, feeling cold and sleek, but this is something to show her care for you.

By now, Bethany is done, which means all Mal has to do is inspect the order. She collects a cute, crazy straw from the container reserved for kids, plopping it into the chocolate milk. It's either a 'crazy' or a 'bendy' one, either term works. "You did well, Bethany. Thank you."

"Happy to help, so can I go now…?"

She doesn't dare to move from her side until Mal releases her with a satisfied nod, drawing it out on purpose. She collects the drink laden tray with ease. Mal soundlessly navigates the diner with a knowledge that can only come from working many shifts within it. She knows where to step, when to pause, and how to be to ensure her final arrival by your side is seamless.

It will seem like she was always there.

Once the last person finally sits their ass down, she breaks the silence to savor how you react.

"There are only so many possible combinations between the five of you…"

You straighten up in your seat to find where she is, searching and seeking her presence out, but Mal has a role to play and lines to easily deliver.

"I'm glad that everyone is finally settled," she continues speaking. Her polite tone is carefully cultivated to not be too familiar or too demure, just pleasing to the ear with its respectful deference that no one here has truly earned. A subdued approach is best when dealing with a crowd of customers, even if you stand out to her. "I would hate for these"—she raises the full tray higher in the air—"to go to waste, so please allow me to hand them out."

Your table seems receptive to the hot drinks.

"A medium, black coffee for our ever dutiful Detective."

"Thank you," James replies, taking the cup.

"Mmm, no. Thank you for all you do for this town," Mal sweetly replies. It's saccharine on her tongue, borderline cloying enough to choke on, but she knows James gives a damn. More importantly, she's aware of Alina's deep care for her soft-spoken and soft-hearted brother; that's something. She plucks another drink from the tray like it's a flower from a bouquet, presenting it with the same level of care. "A small coffee with cream, sugar, and a shot of espresso to combat late nights."

Silas nods his gratitude, allowing the drink to be set in front of him rather than taking it by hand.

That minor detail doesn't escape Mal's notice, the calm snub. Then again, she did just admit to being aware of Silas's late night tendencies in spite of their relative social distance. It was a smart move that also happened to be rude.

"Some pretentious artisanal tea blend that won't be found anywhere else in town…"

Ruby lightly scoffs at Mal's evaluation, pointedly raising her monogrammed thermos to her lips to take a languid sip that Mal watches. It's a touch disappointing she doesn't gag on the contents. Taste isn't what's important about that rare, obscure blend. Mal continues ahead.

"Chocolate milk with a cute bendy straw for the visitor."

"Uhm, thanks," Becca replies.

Mal detects her uncertainty in the barely there pause and how she eyes the straw that isn't present in the other drinks. Hers is also the only cold one, though those subtleties tend to escape most people. Still, Mal regrets nothing.

"And last, but certainly not least, [Name]…"

She takes the utmost care in setting down your drink in front of you, the only one made by her hands that took some of her time and effort.

It's perfectly made hot chocolate.

You must know this too, already reaching for—accepting—your drink while looking at her.

"Your drink should be better than last time," Mal guarantees with a bold confidence that goes beyond taking pride in her work. "I made it myself." Her polite smile is less distantly cordial and more charming when she directs a faint, lopsided grin at you. When you're about to take a testing sip, Mal raises a hand, extending a single finger that signals you need to pause for a second.

It builds anticipation.

You're only looking at her for elaboration, which is something the Verner heir seems to notice too based on that shuffle of movement.

"I'm not sure if the top is secured tightly enough. I would hate for you to get burned…"

The warning about your drink potentially being too hot hangs in the air while the two of you have your moment in front of a crowded table. Mal would admire you in front of a grand audience; there is never a wrong time, but dark satisfaction curls through her. Sure, you sat next to Ruby, but you've forgotten that for a—

"Suing you"—Ruby uses her metal thermos to indicate Mal like it's a judge's gavel—"or this restaurant for the harm sustained by [Surname] would be an utter waste of time." She leans farther away from the window, reaching over you to secure the top of the cup with a little too much force based on the pathetic squeak that comes from its cheap material. "I would still sue you on principle, even if I would only get a penny…"

She couldn't just sit there quietly for a moment?

Mal is able to easily pick apart Ruby's intense bearing from the protective action she just took to how her arm rests behind you on the edge of the booth. You likely don't even perceive the pointed move—the one that puts you within the Verner's reach and embrace without any shred of contact. It's wholly respectful to you, while a clear warning to Mal. It's calculating of Ruby.

"Maybe your mother would represent me pro bono?" Mal jokes, undeterred by her snark. She brought up their strained, familial dynamic on purpose, testing Ruby's resolve by introducing discomfort. It's a reminder of whom she is protecting and where she comes from. Lois will always harbor hard feelings for you—for your family—and Mal can't fault her. "Or maybe we could work something out?"

"She is not one for lost causes or cases, so no."

Ruby sees straight through her pleasantness based on how her arm curls closer, held back and braced on the booth's edge while her pale blue eyes are cool. Verners are adept at that, and yet this one has done more than 'warmed up' to you. It's something to watch. Mal simply smiles pleasantly in response to Ruby's quip.

The non-reaction is likely more grating to her.

"I doubt the Fernweh Diner keeps drinks that hot," you intervene, taking your cup to taste the hot chocolate. "This hypothetical lawsuit can stop now."

When you speak, both she and Ruby listen, except Mal's smile becomes shaded by amusement when she watches Ruby's arm silently slip away while you're preoccupied with your drink. (It's her drink for you.) The fabric is soundless against the booth's edge, leaving you entirely unaware, which Mal prefers. She observes the small sip you take, although it's the barely concealed realization that crosses your features at the end that she truly revels in.

You saw her letter.

"It does taste better," you admit, setting your cup back down and pulling it closer to where you sit. "Thanks."

Are you hiding it from the others or tucking it closer to yourself to cherish? It's something to ponder later after she continues to offer service.

"It's my pleasure," Mal acknowledges your gratitude. Her smile widens before she pulls a slim notepad and pen from a pocket on her apron. "Will you all be dining with us, or is it just the drinks? The waffle irons are hot and ready to go."

Becca perks up a little at the mention of the breakfast item, but she just as quickly deflates when James shakes his head in the negative.

"We need to look over the menu to decide if we have time for a meal," James explains.

Because that's definitely the reason for this delay instead of talking about something grisly.

"No rush." A deft flick of Mal's wrist causes the notepad cover to flip back up and close, obscuring the paper inside of it again. "Take your time. Variation and variety tend to make things more palatable, yes?" She looks around the table one last time, tracing the 'U' shape of the booth with her eyes that linger on you for a charged moment until you meet her gaze. She heads back to the kitchen area to collect hot meals and serve her other customers.

Mal senses you watching her walk away.

There's a pull there that turns sharply gnawing as she traverses more of the black and white tiles that add distance between the two of you.

She'll have to endure it, waiting for another chance to interact with you—only you—again.

She hopes you'll make the right choices too.