Spy Games
The W Street Diner was a fairly large place, though it only employed 3 waitresses, a hostess, 2 cooks and the never-present owner. Usually packed in the day, the night time was very light on people and it was nearly impossible to get a waitress to willingly take the night shift. Pearl, however, had jumped at the chance. The owner didn't question it, he was desperate, and so what if she dropped a plate here and there?

"Table 2 is up, Pearl!" the cook hollered at her, eyeing his masterpiece warily--the girl was not known for her grace and charm around the diner, that's for sure. They'd acquired a few more regulars and a steady bet on how many plates would be broken in one day. Sighing in frustration, she eyed the plates as well. Great. Why did people order the "Lumbering Flapjack" breakfast? Stack of pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs, biscuits and gravy. You could feed a whole table on one order; but this table of 4 had all ordered it. Carefully lifting the first two plates, she scurried across the diner and set them before the first two that had ordered. Repeating the process was simple, though she'd almost lost one plate as it shook rather violently in her hands. "Oops! That one tried to run away!" she chirped sunnily at the diner guests, "Anything else I can get for you?"

On the far side of the restaurant, a lone woman sat with a menu propped up in standing position on her table. She crouched behind its open, laminated pages, pretending to read the list of entrees. While Pearl juggled her plates and chatted with the hungry diners, a pair of wide, brown eyes peered over the menu. They scoped out the young waitress and narrowed, noting the perky voice, the blonde hair, the... customer service ethic. "Hmph."

Hannah's mouth puckered. "She doesn't look so special to me."

Recently, a couple of Golden Nugget regulars had deserted for greener pastures. Upon pressing Morty, a friend of her formerly faithful customers, Hannah learned they were smitten with 'the new girl' at the W Street Diner. According to her source's description, the pretty waitress was quite a klutz, but rather charming. A bit of a firecracker herself, Hannah decided it was high time she spied on this 'Pearl' and learned her trade secrets. Did she bring free refills? Sing and dance? Stuff her bra? Without surveillance, there was no telling what kind of chicanery was at work here.

Lowering her menu, she folded her forearms and cleared her throat. "Huh-uh-umm... huh... umm." Hannah touched her throat and exaggerated a dry swallow. "So parched," she whispered, gazing longingly at a neighboring table; its customers had orange juice and iced water. Where was hers, huh? She'd been here... forty-five seconds, already!

Pearl retreated behind the counter as she heard the young woman clearing her throat. She must have been seated by the hostess, as she was at the table that had a great view of the whole diner. "You think you can make next week's special a bit bigger, Ray?" she said icily to the cook as she prepared a glass of ice water filling it mostly with ice and halfway with water, "People are starting to get disappointed that I'm not dropping every 4th or 5th order," she placed a lemon slice on the edge of the glass, then walked towards Table 4.

"Oh, but look on the bright side Pearl, you haven't had to make an ice cream sundae in a while!" was the comment that floated behind her. She winced; one of the many downsides to heating the air around her. It kept her abilities in check, but it was annoying. Sometimes it was good--if she was attentive enough, the customer's coffee stayed nice and warm. Luckily only Ray had ever seen a napkin light on fire in her presence, and he had not said anything.

Pearl set the now full glass of water before the girl. Some of the ice had melted on her way over, filling the glass with the proper ice/water proportion. Nobody had noticed this tactic thus far. "There we go. Are you ready to order, miss?" she inquired cheerfully.

Straightening up her posture, the blonde customer affected a self-important look. Before ordering, she sucked about three-fourths of her water up the straw, as if she were storing it like a camel. Once her imaginary thirst was quenched, she sighed and said, "I think so." Hannah ran her eyes down the printed columns, confirming her choices before speaking. Let's test her mettle, shall we? "Yes. I'd like a hamburger, well-done, with tomato and pickle, but no lettuce or mustard. Yes on the extra mayonnaise and no on the ketchup." Hannah shook her head and made a sour face. "As for cheese, not American, but provolone. Two slices. Also, french fries, hold the salt. Sometimes they come pre-salted. I prefer to salt them myself. Did I forget the onions? I like onions. Do your buns happen to be sesame-seed free?"

Hannah laced her fingers together and waited expectantly.

Thus far, no twinge of guilt had broken her facade. After all, those cash tips in Pearl's apron shoulda been hers! Hers! But she recognized her tendency towards empathy and didn't make direct eye contact. Instead, she concentrated on Pearl's chin. It was innocuous enough, right? A pervasive heat made Hannah touch her neck. She looked up and around for a heat vent. Was there warm air blowing right on her?

Writing quickly, she recorded the girl's preferences on the order pad. "We don't use seeded buns here," she said cheerfully following the girl's curious eyes. What was she looking for? "Hamburger, meat well done, tomato, pickle, lots of onion, extra mayo, no ketchup, no mustard, no lettuce, deux slices of provolone. Fries, no salt," she said steadily ticking down her order pad for the modifications. "Your onions: Fresh sliced, grilled, or caramelized?"

Hmm... Tricky one, this Pearl.

"Just one onion," she clarified. "I like 'em, but I'm not trying to knock anybody out, if you get my drift. A girl's gotta exhale eventually!" Hannah tucked her menu in the metal holder and settled in for a nice, long stay. Once more, she pondered the sudden influx of heat, but merely plucked at her shirt and watched the ice shift in her glass. July in Searchlight, Nevada, that's what it was like. Unlike most of her compatriots, Hannah had loved the tiny town. All this actual winter was putting a hurtin' on her.

She took off her cardigan, wishing she had a church fan. "Grilled will do just fine." Hannah scrutinized the small name tag her waitress wore. 'Pearl'. At the Gold Nugget, hers read 'Carrie', which was a lie, but she'd gotten used to answering to it. She convinced herself it was a nickname, just like 'Pixie'. In her heart, she'd always be Hannah Jean Flynn, no matter what government paperwork said. "Thank you," she added.

Pearl smiled and wrote the rest of the young woman's order down, changing the onion to normal amount, noting them grilled. She saw the girl remove her sweater. Damn it, she'd been standing there too long. Now she'd notice the difference when she left. Suddenly very apprehensive she smiled and said, "I'll be back in a minute with another water for you," then walked to the counter.

She pinned the order to Ray's to do rack, which was empty for the time being. The cook was nowhere to be seen. "Ray! Order!" she called as she went into the back room for another lemon. She grabbed the lemon, noting the cook's return to his duties, then got the young woman another glass of water. She carried it out to her again, the ice melting just as before. She smiled at the glass as she carried it. Sometimes this science stuff was handy!

Pearl placed the glass on the table before the young woman and said, "By the way, my name is Pearl. I forgot to tell you earlier."

"Hannah," she supplied readily, then thought better of it, frantically waving a hand, as if erasing words from a chalkboard. "But don't bother remembering it! I'm a loyal customer of the Golden Nugget Pancake House. You just can't beat the prices there, or the service!" Ting! If only white teeth made sound effects, for real. "I'm... just here today because it's on my way to the..." Hannah faltered. What? Post office? Bally's total fitness? Neither of those were on this block. She scrambled to provide a believable yet vague answer. "Apothecary."

Hannah's eyes cut rightward. Where on god's green had that come from? Lord.

"Say, is it just me, or is it warm in here?" Hannah snatched up the distraction. Nobody else was fanning with quite the fervor she was. It seemed that whenever Pearl came to her table, Hannah sucked up heat. But not just regularly. She was getting juiced on it, like when she lit a fire and channeled the energy into herself. "Early onset menopause, maybe."

Pearl grinned at the girl. "I'm glad your trip to the 'apothecary' brought you here then. You'll have a long wait though," she said motioning to the clock, noting it was almost 2AM. "A few people from the Golden Nugget have been coming here. There's a betting pool on how many dishes I break in one day. They tally the results at 6am, pass out the cash, then start a new one. I'm sure once I get the hang of this waitressing thing that it'll stop," she said wryly. Noting that Hannah was obviously feeling the heat, she concentrated on not projecting any at all. Sure, there was now a very good chance something was going to catch fire, but she couldn't go frying the customers. And if it came down to it, she had pilfered 3 bottles of the repression drugs they'd kept her on in the institution. If she really felt out of control maybe one would do. She hated herself for even thinking of it.

She was now just warming her skin, as she didn't own a jacket and it was really quite cold. Usually people weren't so sensitive or they were too absorbed in what they were doing to notice. "Your order should be up shortly." She smiled and excused herself to go bus a table, then check on the rowdy teens in the corner and the bar dwellers.

Speaking of the men from the Golden Nugget, without a menu for shielding herself, Hannah was in plain view. She covertly scooted out of her booth and took up residence on the other side. Now she faced the restroom. That way, if they noticed her, it'd only be the back of her head. Why should anybody recognize her from that? Plus, when people were used to seeing you in a uniform, they often didn't recognize you in jeans and a sweater.

The temperature regulated back to 70ish degrees. Probably she was turning beat-red with guilt for being an impostor, whenever Pearl came around; Hannah cajoled herself for imagining otherwise. Still, there did seem to be an excess of some kind of energy built up in her system. Taking a deep breath, she puckered her lips and blew. The napkins on her table stirred, and then the napkins on the next table, and the next. When she felt better, Hannah cleared her throat and settled into a cozy posture.

The food odors were pleasant, which she hated to admit. Maybe the W Street Diner was of higher quality, food-wise, but she was still a classy waitress! Oddly, Hannah took pride in that. She figured, hey, if waiting tables was your icky lot in life, you might as well be a rock star at it. Picking up two straws, she drummed a beat on her tabletop and bopped her head to a tune playing. It was a song by the Four Tops called 'Bernadette'. Singing along under her breath, she replaced Bernadette's name at all the appropriate places with Oliver's. On a whim, she got out her cell phone and texted him. </i>'R u okay? R we still talking? I'm alive, not a child molester!'</i>

"Order up, Pearl!" the cook yelled. She was getting tired of the expectant look coming from the bar area every time her orders were up. She grabbed a tray and set another glass of water on it and the plate with Hannah's food, then carried it to the table, noting she'd switched places. "Here's your hamburger and fries." She placed the food and drink as well as some condiments--ketchup, hot sauce, salt and pepper--within easy reach of Hannah, then placed the glasses with ice back onto the tray.

A piercing whistle across the room from the rowdy teenagers' table startled her and a napkin from the table beside her suddenly burst into flame. She smiled at Hannah again as she dumped the ice onto the burning napkin, then swept it onto her tray nonchalantly. "Anything else you need just give me a heads up," she said and then turned to see what the teens wanted. Merde! Should go outside and melt snow, not light the napkins on fire! Two more hours, two more hours... she chided herself mentally.

"Whoa!" Hannah gaped at the wet, blackened wad, which disappeared with Pearl's sudden departure. That was not normal. She snapped her fingers in a 'By George!' moment. It totally was her, heating the place up. Or maybe not heating the place up, exactly, but radiating enough fiery energy that Hannah, a literal sponge for elemental things, sucked it up accidentally. It must've been because she was scrutinizing Pearl so closely, trying to detect service flaws.

"Get back over here," she mumbled, staring at the other blonde's back. "Psst!" The hiss didn't catch any attention. Hannah did an ants-in-the-pants shift in her seat. "Psst!" All that accomplished was spraying spittle on the hamburger bun. Frustrated, she picked up a spoon and tap-tap-tapped it against her glass. "Waitress! Excuse me, there's something wrong with my order!"

Pearl hurried back over to Hannah. "Oh dear! I'm sorry what did we do wrong?" she asked, concerned.

Hannah grabbed the plastic-coated menu and whispered behind it. "You're a pyro!" She pointed an accusatory finger. "Don't you deny it, I saw that napkin combust! I for sure didn't do it. I can't create an element, just channel it. Which explains why I'm hotter than Satan's balls whenever you come by. We could sizzle bacon on you."

Pearl paled about 4 shades whiter than she normally was "I'm just not in good control today," she said meekly, sinking into a chair next to Hannah's booth. "I've only tried frying an egg on my skin, by the way. Just hold onto it and it'll cook. Fascinating really, no need for a stove. If I had neighbors they'd think I eat out every day. Really easy to cook and all that," she babbled on. "How do you channel energy? I have a terrible time trying to do it."

"Long story," Hannah said, because it had taken her months to learn. There had been no element natural to her, none she could create from scratch, but she'd gotten quite good at sucking energy out of one and forcing it into another. Out in the desert, where no one could see, she had stirred up dust devils and caused miniature earthquakes and such, in practice and by accident. "It's like that physics law. I can't create energy or destroy it, I can just transform it. I used to have to meditate, and it was only through my hands. Now it's going on all the time. Like osmosis."

A question occurred. "Hey, can you put out fires, too, or just start them?" Hannah kept her voice super-low.

"Umm," Pearl hesitated. She'd never actually tried to snuff one out without the use of liquids. "I haven't tried to put one out with my head before. It...they...when...uh--" she stumbled over her next sentence. There was no way she was telling a total stranger that she'd been locked in a mental institution that kept her abilities in a drug-induced state of inertness. No, thank you. "I haven't practiced much," she finished, now scanning the dining room to see if people needed anything. They didn't, so she switched to a chair where she could face Hannah and motioned to her hamburger. "You should eat. It's better when it's fresh," she said cheerful again. Lowering her voice she said quietly, "I'll try to keep the heat at a minimum. I'm pretty sure I could light someone on fire, and I don't really relish the thought. Once I learn to control it, things will be better."

"Can't set me on fire," Hannah said, shrugging. It wasn't a challenge, so much as a reassurance. "I knew a pyro once who blew up a gas station. I was out back and all it did was singe my arm hairs." She picked up her burger and a tomato seed squeezed out. "By the way, I didn't come for the food. I came to check out the competition. I wait tables at the Golden Nugget." Glomp. Hannah chewed the large bite of her late-nite dinner and met Pearl's eyes. Hannah had an openness about her, a way of seeming harmless, even when she was stomping around in a miniature tirade. It'd be tough to find her intimidating. She was 5'2", not quite 100 pounds, and had the face of a kewpie doll, even though she was mid-twenties. With her hair grown out, and a sweater on instead of a baseball tee, Hannah still looked barely legal.

"Good. I don't mean to hurt people, and I don't usually; but sometimes stuff gets ruined," Pearl said, gesturing to the napkin. "It's good to meet another waitress that I don't work with. The others are kind of catty. What is a gas station? And why did your friend blow one up?" she asked curiously.

Hannah swallowed and stared at Pearl. "What's a gas station?" A pickle slipped out of her hamburger and plopped on the plate. "It's where you go to fill your car up with fuel. So it runs?" Genuinely confused, she wondered if the other waitress had taken a wrong turn in the Twilight Zone, only to wind up in the sense-making world. She ate another bite before going on to the second topic. "It was this guy, Jed. We were at a truck stop... a gas station for giant trucks, I mean... and these men made some rude suggestions about--" She stopped, reassessing how to finish her sentence. For the first time ever, Hannah got the feeling she was talking to somebody more naive than her. Which seemed impossible! "Well, they wanted to hurt me, and Jed got so mad, he just exploded the place on accident. I ran for it before the big bang. It was out in the desert, and the fire burned so hot, it turned some of the sand around me to glass."

"Gas? Desert? Glass comes from sand? Ahh," she rubbed her temples a bit, "Excuse me a second!" She dashed to the kitchen and picked up what Ray had made her. What with the diner now empty except for the bar dwellers and Hannah, she could have a break and chat. She returned to the chair with a sandwich and a glass of water. "Sorry. We don't have a covering waitress at night so I break when it's about empty. Did Jed make it out too? The fire doesn't hurt us much, but an explosion would hurt him, wouldn't it?" she asked.

Nodding, Hannah said, "Yeah," and frowned. "He didn't make it. We weren't really friends, but it sucks, knowing somebody died to keep you from being manhandled." That had been years ago, though, and life had been so odd and dangerous in Nevada, she had tucked it away in her memory and moved on. One had to, there, just to keep their wits about them. "How come you're so confused?" Almost immediately, she felt awful for asking. What if Pearl had head trauma, and that was the reason she asked things that seemed obvious to Hannah? How awkward would that be?

"I'm sorry you lost your friend," she said awkwardly. Surely the girl hadn't expected this with her late night snack. "I am confused because I've never heard of some of that stuff," she said after chewing thoughtfully. "Sheltered life," she added quickly. People threw that term around a lot. Maybe it'd ease the girl's curiosity. She seemed trustworthy enough that she could probably tell her more and the girl wouldn't tell the institution where she was; but now just wasn't the time. "You need more water. Just a moment." She went and got the girl a new glass of water, refilled the coffee that the boys at the bar were nursing, then headed back to the table. "Here we go. I have to check on them occasionally. Last thing we need is them falling asleep in their scalding hot coffee," she giggled.

"Well, I say they deserve it, for neglecting their regular waitress," Hannah said haughtily, stabbing her straw into the fresh glass. But it was obvious she was joking around. Were it not her place of employment, she wouldn't eat at the Golden Nugget much, either. By now, most of her hamburger was eaten. The blonde picked through her french fries. "I grew up mostly with my grandma in Oklahoma," she said, harking back to what Pearl had said. "I spent a lot of time with old ladies." Had they been more like the Golden Girls, she would've come out with a cosmopolitan view of the world, thanks to Blanche and Dorothy. But her grandma's friends mostly gossiped and knitted and played Euchre. "That's kinda sheltered. Buuuut I did know what a gas station was! Now..." She tipped her head. "Now I know a lot, based on some complicated circumstances, but I work hard to maintain my childish enthusiasm."

"Where is...nevermind...we'll be at this all night if I ask you what everything I don't know is. It's a fascinating place here on the--in Chicago. The people are fascinating and very different," she said happily, "Don't worry about your patrons, they'll be back soon. This is the worst round yet for the betting pool, seeing as I only dropped one thing today. The owner's wife loved and played up the betting aspect--had the cook making increasingly elaborate meals in hopes that they'd be too heavy for me. She hated the dishes here and wanted an excuse to buy new ones."

Pearl filled the girl in on the workings behind the place. The customers had already began tapering off. Mostly the doctors or people who understood the body. Eventually she'd get stronger, so they knew the plate breaking would stop soon. "I'm only on this shift because everyone they hired is scared to death of vampires and such," she waved her hand dismissively; as if that notion was just too absurd to be a good excuse. "Do you want something more?" she asked Hannah, indicating her plate.

"Vampires don't go in diners to feed too often," Hannah said. "It's easier to pick off a convenience store cashier, since they're by themselves." She shrugged and put some money on the table. The bills covered her food and a nice tip. "I'm full, so I'm gonna get going." She slid out of her seat and stood up. "But it was nice to meet you. I hereby forgive you for transgressing on my tips." Hannah extended her hand for a shake. "If you ever wanna talk fire-balls, you know where to find me... the Golden Nugget," she clarified.

Pearl copied Hannah's gesture and shook her hand. "Thank you," she said "Have a good morning. I'll visit you sometime." With a grin she picked up Hannah's plate and disappeared into the back room.




[Text to Oliver within scene]