קгєץ 🕷 [ⲛⲁⲅⳙⲏⳕⲛⲁ]

Like A Puppet On A String

"Yeah, um..."

Hinata paused in her table clearing and straightened, head tilted in curiosity as she patiently waited for him to finish.

"Well...you see..." the man muttered, dark eyes bright, and oddly determined, "I was wondering if...I mean if you want to...uh..."

His words trailed off as his midnight colored eyes skated off to the side.

This wasn't the first time he'd exhibited such behavior.

Bakuto was a regular at Teuchi's, often taking a seat in her section when there was a space open, though she couldn't hep but wonder why he did considering he seemed a bit nervous around her, and other times, irritated. Whether with her or something else, it was enough for him to ask for another server a few times, something he didn't ask of her, but of any passing server nearby the moment she left his side to attend other tables or grab something for him.

One or the other happened every time he sat at her tables.

His ivory skin would flush, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, eyes a bit wide, almost beseeching, as though he were asking her some unvoiced question he expected her to read in his gaze, just as he was now.

At first, she'd though he was just a anxious person, something she could empathize and sympathize with.

Even before she'd gone on the run, Hinata had always been skittish.

Though she wasn't sure if her skittishness was a product of the environment she'd been raised in, or the way she was destined to be all along.

Wanting to put him at ease, Hinata had worked hard to try and make him feel welcome and comfortable, which worked on ninety-nine percent of customers like him, but she got the feeling her efforts had only made him more uncomfortable. She was convinced that the problem lay with her when she caught glimpses of him relaxed and chatting amicably with other servers when her section was full and he was forced to sit elsewhere.

She didn't take it personal.

In her profession, in hospitality in general, people were people.

People didn't always get along, sometimes personalities mismatched.

And that was okay.

She was just glad there were servers he felt comfortable interacting with.

Why he continued to return her section though, that was the real mystery.

"Sir?" she prompted gently, shifting his dirty plates to a more comfort position in her hand, "was there something else?"

Reaching up, he rubbed at his flaming neck, his eyes finding hers before jerking away again, a scowl on his face.

Something else he was prone to do around her.

She didn't want to upset him.

Maybe she should get one of the other waitresses to finish tending his meal.

She glanced around.

Actually, that seemed like a good idea to her.

Kiba-kun had just finished doling out ramen to a table of four and was heading back to the kitchen. She was sure he wouldn't mind seeing to the last five minutes of this one table.

"No worries," she assured him quietly, compassion curving her lips into a understanding smile, "let me take your dishes to the back, and I'll get another server out for to help you."

She turned.

"Wait, miss, I-"

He reached for her, tugging her arm.