❝now i'm seeing red,
not thinking straight.❞
━━━ never be the same.
stand alone | on going.
( oc x mitch rapp )
( extended summary inside )
cover by @CarKann
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The clanking of dishes and soft hum of french music was background noise that Alana was all too familiar with. In a white button up and black slacks, the brunette gently places her table's plates on her tray.
"You got a new guest in your section, Lana, it's your stalker," the brunette's favorite coworker and best friend, Fatima, voice crackles through her walkie talkie, her voice taking on a teasing tone.
"Copy that boss," Lana rolls her eyes, a smirk on her face as she picks up her tray and walks across the kitchen towards the exit. "Behind you," she calls out as she passes a chef. Gracefully kicking the double doors with her leg, she saunters through the rows of tables until she stops at one with a sophisticated couple. "Risotto aux champignons," Lana pronounces, a french accent coming out as she speaks. She lifts the plate off her tray and places it in front of the blonde hair and bright blue eye woman. She then grabs the other plate and places it in front of the man on the other side of the table, "Noisettes de chevreuil poêlées."
"This looks delicious," the man says, picking up his knife and fork.
Lana gives him a polite smile. "Is there anything else I can get you two?" She asks, her hands gripping onto the tray.
"No, no we should be fine," the man says, cutting into his venison.
"I'll take another glass of wine," the woman tells her, before taking a sip from her glass. "Chilled, please."
Alana nods. "It was the Chateau d'Yquem Sauternes, yes?"
"Yes, I believe so," the woman nods.
"I'll actually take another drink too," the man adds on, his fork lifted near his face. "Do you have any ales?"
Lana shakes her head. "Unfortunately no, we do have a Pastis if you're not interested in wine?" She offers.
"Ahh, that's fine. I'll take that."
Lana nods. "I'll be right out with your drinks," she tells them before moving on to the next table.
The brunette pulls out her notepad and fountain pen, glancing at the man seated in front of her. Her brown eyes examine him, this is the fourth time she's seen him this week and every time he always asks to be seated in her section. It's become a running joke for her co-workers to tease her about, although the guy has been leaving her nice tips so she's not gonna complain anytime soon.
Neither Lana nor the man have made any move to make a connection other than their waiter/customer routine they have going. She hasn't even bothered to ask for his name and vice versa. Lana takes note of the guys features, his hair is at an awkward length, it looks like he may have cut it a couple of months ago and is trying to grow it out. Stubble covers his stoic face, his hardened whiskey eyes rapidly scan the menu. Veins run along his hands that hold the menu; he looks to be about 30 years old so not too old for the 24 year old.
