Pondering The Meaning...
Two weeks of working the late shift, four more broody artist visits, zero words spoken, and five perfect portraits later, Laura had had enough. Ever since the first time she ‘met’ the dark haired girl, her thoughts had been plagued by her.
“What does CK stand for? Why does she keep drawing inaccurate pictures of me?” and of course, “is she going to kill me?”
Honestly, she was half tempted to call the number already saved in her phone. The journalist in her wanted to and see what was up with this entire situation but the ‘daddy’s little girl’ part of her told her better.
Laura still felt really bad for ruining the girl's drawing with hot coffee but that doesn’t mean she’s going to put forth her own life to make up for it. When she had told LaFontaine, one of Laura's closest friends of an average build with pale icy blue eyes, about what had happened the morning after, they tried to convince her to call; saying things like “Well, if she wanted to kill you, she would have already.” And “Maybe she just wants to hook up."
Naturally, Laura was baffled at the idea of the artist wanting to sleep with her, not that she’d be opposed or anything, she just wasn’t the type for one night stands.
Thanks to the red headed bio major though, every time the brunette came in, Laura’s face immediately went up in flames. And today was no different.
When the bell above the door jingled the waitress looked up from the dirty counter she was cleaning and saw the source of her recent frustration. Putting on a steely smile and cheery voice, she greeted the punk.
“Welcome to The Lustig.” Noticing that instead of going to sit in her normal secluded corner booth, the artist waltzed up to the bar and sat down in one of the stools. Her heavy combat boots clunking against the foot rest and her ripped up skinny jeans hitting the front of the bar, she brought up her elbows and placed them heavily against the counter. A move that annoyed the tiny waitress to no end.
Since it was the middle of the week and a particularly slow night, Laura was the only waiter currently working. Every other day the girl came in, she would often send Kirsch, a very eager and athletic young man with short, spiky brunette locks, or Betty, a lean young woman with pale blonde hair that is often tied up in a tight bun, and bright green-blue eyes, to handle the dark woman (yet somehow, each of her drawings still made it to Laura). But no, today she had to actually deal with the mysterious and broody girl because the universe hated her very existence.
Without having to ask, Laura grabbed a mug and coffee pot, setting it down in front of the dark haired girl. She knew that all the artist got when she came in was a straight black coffee, the information came from the giant puppy man and dark circles on the portraits of herself.
“You know, normally when I give girls my number they don’t hesitate to call.” The broody female says calmly, staring Laura down. Raising an eyebrow, a thought crossed the waitress’ mind. ‘If Mistress of the Snark wants to play, then I’ll sure as hell give her a fair game.’
“Just weighing the pros and cons, I suppose.”
“Oh? And what would those be, sweetheart?” the artist smirked, amused.
Flustered, Laura answers. “Well, for the pros, you’re extremely attractive and a great artist but for the cons, I have no idea if you’re a killer or stalker. Hell, I don’t even know your name.”
“Carmilla. My name is Carmilla.” The artist- Carmilla, drawls slowly. “And for the killer part, I guess you’re just going to have to find out.”