ic You Never Get a Second Change for First Impressions.

[Heritage]

Gretchen sniffed and sat up a bit straighter under the yuppies' scrutiny, then carefully picked up an anise cookie for examination; it smelled delicious. She slowly lowered the cookie halfway into her tea and held it there for several seconds, watching as the liquid seeped inside; then she lifted the cookie up, studied it for a few more seconds, and then closed her eyes and took a bite. The whole thing seemed more like a carefully controlled experiment, or some sort of East Asian ritual. The young barista let the mixture of flavors spread across her tongue and up into her sinuses. Sometimes it was good just to be.

 

Grecth turned to the proprietor and inclined her head slightly. "Good cookie."

[TheAbsurdist]

Stavros paid attention to them, collecting their order, as they spoke in conversation tone, but not the expected 'look at me' loud voice the superficial evaluation of them would indicate they might do.  With that done, the two settled into a casual conversation, a little snippets of complaining about the rain storm, and the like.

 

The older man returned to the counter to start getting their food together, and he flashed a fatherly smile to Gretchen, "Of course, thank you!  I will tell my wife you like it, it is her recipe."  And he hummed to himself.  

 

After a few moments the man from the couple excused himself, and went to the bathroom in the back of the little cafe.  The woman nodded a bit, and told him to hurry, before she pulled out her phone and amused herself with it.

 

She was right, it was good to just be every so often.  it was quiet, apart from Stavros' humming as he made the tea and plates for the assumed couple.  To Gretchen's suspicious eye there would glances from her towards the bathroom.  After a few moments Stavros walked up to her table, and placed two big mugs of steaming liquid, and some cookies.  it was then that a loud crashing noise came from the rest room that would give the woman, and Stavros a start.  Her hand moved immediately to the older man's wrist that was near her, as the noise kept coming, sounding like a fight.

[Heritage]

At the sound of a struggle, Gretchen's eyes narrowed; the young barista was far from a combat veteran, and she'd only been doing the superhero thing for a little while, but even though her girlfriend was rightly dismissive of their computer gaming source, she actually had pretty good instincts when it came to sensing trouble. You don't play first person shooters for years in a darkened room wearing headphones without learning something about combat. When the sounds didn't stop right away, Gretch quickly moved towards the bathroom, sparing the girl at the table a quick glance before rapping sharply on the door with her knuckle.

 

"Everything all right in there? It sounds like someone fell."

[TheAbsurdist]

There was a crash as she knocked on the door followed by another, louder one that rattled the door to the men's room against the frame.  The thumping continued, it was harsh and rough and just all together a bit of a mess, as whatever was happening in there was neither gentle nor quiet.

It was a fight, her video game fueled combat reflexes fueled reflexes told her that much.  That and perhaps a special mint tea sharpened presence of mind.  If she tried the door was locked, there was a deadbolt affair that indicated whether it was occupied or not.  The red sign showing.

 

Stavros came steaming up to her, his breath chugging, which one would expect from a man in his 60s. "What is this!?  Go, go call cops!"  It would seem it was not in the old man's nature to allow to just sit and let something like this happen, before he tried to muscle in and pound on the door.  To which a thump against the door happened.

[Heritage]

Gretchen shook her head and said in a tone that would brook no argument, "No. You get the police. I'll take care of this." Then she turned to address the door, feet firmly planted. "We are coming in." She didn't raise her voice or bellow it, just made a statement in a clear, firm voice.

 

And then she held up her left hand about waist high, fingers spread, and a force slammed into the bolted door. The young heroine had no intention of blasting the door off its hinges, so she only used a fraction of her power; in her mind, she pictured two linebackers from the New England Patriots charging at the door, shoulders raised for maximum impact. Hopefully she wouldn't damage any innocents on the other side.

[TheAbsurdist]

Stavros didn't so much blanch as he looked at her, and then moved, muttering under his breath about whatever was happening had better not ruin his shop.  He did, however, do as she demanded of him, as he hurried to behind the counter.  Though he didn't make it to there before she visualized shoving open the door.  Fortunately, she was facing the thing, which made all of this a bit easier, she shoved inward, and the frame jerked with the force of it, but the door came free, and two people came out in a rush.  At her.

 

Though she was able to see it unfolding.  The yuppy man eating a forearm to the face, while holding a pocket knife, and trying to stab the man in a hoodie with a hockey mask who was throwing the blow.  They rocked back against the wall.

[Heritage]

Gretchen arched an eyebrow as the fight spilled out into the rest of the shop; the knife in the yuppie's hand was a bit of a surprise, but the guy in the hockey mask was probably still the instigator of the fight. Jumping a step backwards, the young heroine flipped her left hand upwards, causing Mr. Voorhees to be slammed up against the ceiling, hard enough to send trailing spinkles of plaster down to cover things in thin layer of dust.

 

Once she was sure she had the guy well and truly pinned, she turned to look to at Chad McStabby, cocking her head to one side inquisitively. "Well, then. Looks like we're having a bit of an altercation in there. What happened?"

[TheAbsurdist]

There was a grunt as the masked man was slammed into the ceiling, he was nowhere near the size of Mr. Voohees, that was for certain.  Though he didn't say anything.

Now, Chad looked at her, and then looked at the man on the ceiling, and he shakily enough folded the knife, his eyes on her now.  What with the demonstration of power, and everything.  "He... appeared out of nowhere and attacked me."  He still managed to sound punchable, like a good yuppie should.  Slowly, and making a show of what he was doing he moved to put the knife back in his pocket.

She heard Stavros stumbling around for the phone.  

[Heritage]

Something about all this still seemed a bit off; in this scenario, one would expect the guy in the hockey mask to have the weapon, like a gun or a knife or even a garrote, yet the masked assistant was using his bare hands to assault the yuppie, one of the worst ways to kill a person, especially a healthy young man. It was noisy and takes a long time; that scene of a guy being strangled in No Country For Old Men and his boots scuffing linoleum still haunted the young heroine. So neither theft nor assassination made any sense as motives on this perp, which left what, intimidation? Someone trying to send a message? Revenge for a perceived wrong? But then he'd want him to see his face.

 

Gretch kept coming back to that knife; yuppie duppies don't carry knives, pretty much as a rule. The way he put it back into his pocket was familiar, with practiced ease; he didn't fumble awkwardly with it, he was holstering his weapon. Had he been in knife fights before? Was he the the kind of guy who anticipated having to defend himself with a knife? Why not carry a gun? Because they're too loud?

 

Lastly she considered the girl; what was her reaction to all this, and the knife? Was this a side of 'her man' she'd seen before?

 

Doing her best to keep her eyes on both 'victim' and 'asssilant', and still keeping the masked man pinned to the ceiling (Why wasn't he struggling or calling out? So many questions!), she addressed 'Chad'. "Interesting. Why do you carry a knife on your person?" 

Edited March 13, 2018 by Heritage