The Motorway Cafe

Mia

Mia wiped a mug dry absentmindedly, watching the tiny raindrops chase one another down the windowpane. She envied their freedom. An irritating, tinny ring as someone pushed open the door to the cafe where Mia worked distracted her from her daydreaming. She put the mug away beneath the counter before pulling out her earphones and tucking an errant strand of hair away behind her ear, leaving her eyes uncovered to take in the sodden stranger.
"Hi," she said, in a playful tone. Not many people came by this way, and she was determined to enjoy this company while it lasted. "So, hon, what can I get you? Something hot after that dreadful weather?" She twisted the edge of her apron between her fingers, shooting a No. 5 smile at the huddled mass on the barstool and hoping her efforts would be worth it.

Red

I pulled over into a cafe on the side of the motorway; the weather was getting much too wet to drive in. I slowed my charcoal-grey Harley Davidson into the car park up next to a silver Ford Focus. I was not a lover of estate cars, nor cars in all for that matter, but what other people drove was none of my business. I loosened the strap to my black helmet and tugged it off, revealing my spiked aurburn hair.

I trudged into the somewhat quaint building and walked in the door. I was dying to get my leather costume off, it was beggining to stick to my skin. I approached the waitress. "Hey, where are the toilets honey?" she smiled and pointed me in the direction. I thanked her and walked into the mens toilets. Then I began to peel off the black layer from my skin.

Myles

Myles bustled through the cafe doors, catching himself on the handle as he did so. He shook his arm out as he stumbled over to the counter, sprawling on one of the stools beside it. The waitress gave a pleasant smile; he looked away, colour returning suddenly to his cheeks.
"You all right there sweetie?" she asked. Myles nodded.
"Y-y-yeah, I'm good." he stuttered, sniffing and shaking with cold. A moment's awkward silence passed, then "Do you have a tissue?"
The girl passed him a piece of kitchen towel, apologising for the rough quality. Her name tag read 'Mia- Happy to help.'; he would remember that.
"So, what brings you here?" Mia asked. Myles glanced back out into the rain, then looked up at her.
"Business."
"Oh, well, what do you do?"
Another glance outside.
"I, uh, I'm a... electronics merchant. I'm off to, uh, get some... electronics."
"On foot?"
"Uh, yeah."
Myles looked back down, studying the veins on his hands as they turned rosy with the warmth of the cafe, then briefly flicked his gaze back out to the pouring rain.

Mia

Mia looked the young man up and down. "If you say so," she shrugged. It was none of her business whatever he was up to, after all. Who was she to judge, of all people?
"Drink, Mr. Dicing-With-Death?" She winked. "Must be pretty dangerous, trading electronics in the rain." A mischeivous smile.
"Oh, yes..." The customer looked distracted. Mia turned his chin to face her with one perfectly French manicured nail. "What will it be?" she asked.
He gulped.
"Umm... oh, to drink! Of course! Coffee?" He seemed to be asking rather than placing an order. "Something troubling you, honey?" asked Mia, leaning in close over the steaming mug of coffee she had placed between them.
"Umm... My name's Myles," the young man replied. His adam's apple bobbed nervously. "Well, Myles," Mia murmured, "there must be something I can to to help. I'm very good at making people's problems just... disappear. Tell me about it," she offered, twisting a strand of hair around her index finger and smiling invitingly.
Myles hesitated. "Don't worry, I can keep a secret."
He nodded slowly, and whispered, "I don't know...", but the look in his wide eyes said otherwise; Mia could see she had his mind made up.

Myles

I stuttered. I could not just tell her... could I?
The thought rattled in my brain for a moment, but Mia turned away. I held my breath a second, forcing myself not to give a sigh of relief.
"You want some sugar with that coffee, sugar?" she asked. I was certainly taken aback by her overuse of the word sugar, but could not find my tongue.
"You know, it's nice to reply when a girl asks you something." Mia did not turn around to address me; it was clear I had offended.
"S-sorry."
She made a sound to the effect of 'uh-huh', but said nothing more.
The sound of a toilet flushing made me jolt in my seat. There was somebody else here. Coming in here was a mistake.
"Hey there, stranger. Mind if I take a seat?" the man strode out, still zipping his flies. I shook my head.
"So, what's your name then?" the man made small talk.
"Myles."
"Myles? What kind of a name is that!?"
"My name." I looked out the window into the rain, hoping for an escape. A police car pulled into the forecourt of the cafe. I swallowed hard.
No escape possible.

Mia

The one whose name was Myles looked startled at the sound of a police car pulling up outside the cafe. The smell of burning rubber tickled Mia's nostrils as they screeched to a halt. Not again- the peelers were always around here! And Mia knew their type; cocky, self-assured, and very often in the wrong, even if they were 'upholding the law'. To Hell with the law, thought Mia rebelliously. It had never done anything for her.
Turning to Myles, she asked "What's did you do? No lies, no modesty, just tell me." He looked reluctant, so she added, "I've seen- and done- things that would make your blood boil, hon. Nothing can surprise me. So just tell Mia what you did."
He gulped.
The other man, Harley Davidson, as Mia mentally called him, looked about to interrupt, so she raised a finger to his lips and looked intently at Myles. "Don't be afraid," she whispered, their faces close. His face was ashen white, hers a milky coffee hue. "I want to help you."
His face crumpled. "No-one can help me!" he almost wailed. Mia shook her head despairingly. "There's no call for that kind of attitude, young man! Now pull yourself together- we don't have much time!"

Myles

I smiled at her stoicism. The cops were clambering out of the car- one a scrawny creature with slicked-back hair better befitting a policeman of the nineteen-fifties, the other a porcine monstrosity of truly epic waistline.
"Okay, look. I m-may have done a few, uh, things I am n-n-n-not proud of, but I, aha, uh... well look I ain't killed nobody, b-b-before you go thinking things."
Mia looked relieved somewhat; she might have no apparent qualms at hiding criminals, but it seemed as though she had been thinking things after all. I sighed.
"What did you do, sweetie?" she inquired again.
"What I done ain't important!" I shouted, causing her to jump backward in fright, "Just... just don't tell 'em I done it."
"May I have a word?"
All eyes turned to the man who had until moments ago been warming the toilet seat for the incoming law.
"Wait at the back of the store, then slip out when they're in the john."
"There's only one toilet, honey."
"Then pretty can distract the other one."
Silence descended. The plan had been accepted by all parties- I made my way to the back of the store, standing before the magazine stack to make it look as though I was browsing. The door chime rang. I swallowed hard.

Mia

'Pretty'? Mia shrugged- she'd had worse nicknames. As the two policemen entered the cafe, Mia examined the two men critically. She fervently hoped that she wouldn't be left with the portlier of the two. She had to hide a sigh of relief as he barged his way through the room and squeezed through the door marked 'Gents' in faded letters at the back of the room.
Turning her full attention to the other cop, Mia leaned across the bar and called out "Hey, Mister Policeman," in her most sugar-coated voice, and batted her long, black eyelashes at him endearingly. He turned to look at her, and she shot him a winning smile. "You lookin' for someone special, sugar?" she murmured as he took a seat opposite her. He leered at Mia hungrily.
"Why, you think you're worth lookin' for?" he asked. Mia pursed her lips as she pretended to think a moment. "Do you know, honey, I just about reckon that I am." She could almost see his mouth watering. Disgusting, she thought.
Risking a glance over to the magazine stand, she saw that Myles was almost perfectly concealed behind the spinning rack. Good.
Smiling at the policeman, she leaned close and asked, voice low, "Can I get you something, sugar?" The man was nodding without even realising it.
"A coffee or something?" Mia was enjoying herself immensely. She had forgotten what fun it was, to tease and torment her prey. Reaching out a manicured hand, she ran her fingers through his oily hair, trailing them tantalisingly across the nape of his neck and around to his adam's apple, lifting his square chin with one finger before withdrawing her hand. "Anything at all, you just... say the word. Anything..."
He leaned over the bar, trying to get closer under the pretense of reading the menu. "Uhh..." he stuttered. Mia could see the confusion clouding his tiny mind, trying to work out if she was being serious or just toying with him.
"How about a personal favourite?" she suggested. "Fresh, hot latte, with mountains of whipped cream and chocolate dust? Sooo creamy and delicious, it just... melts on the tongue." She licked her lips. "Mmmm," she added, reeling in her unwitting victim.
She heard a flush from behind her. The other cop would be back any second! She needed to ensure that her charge was occupied, at least. Maybe tall dark and mysterious down the bar would take care of him.
"So, darlin', you got a name?" She turned back to the cop in front of her.
"A-Alonso..." he stammered. She managed not to roll her eyes. He probably thought it sounded cool.
"Well, Alonso," she made the name sound so much better than it was, "You know, I never could resist a man in uniform." She moved in for the kill, praying that everyone else was holding their end of the plan up alright. Not much longer now, she thought to herself.

Deanna

I push open the door, ignoring the bang it makes as it hits the wall, and peel off my coat. Swearing to myself, I push my hair, messy black and all over my face and shouldes, out of my eyes before plopping down on a barstool, bringing my knees up to my chin and perching on the red leather. Then I look up and freeze at the scene in front of me. A waitress and a cop gazing lustfully into each other eyes, a sly smile playing on the lady's lips.
"Uh, am I interrupting something?"

Red

It was amusing to see this kid of a pig being messed around by the waitress, and I could see that she was enjoying it too. Her face almost looked panicky, however, when the flush of the toilet alerted her to the end of the other officer's 'business'. I didn't even realise two had walked in, but I had to improvise when I saw the look that the waitress flashed to me that screamed 'quick, do something!

I browsed my mind for a plan to distract the cop, but I realised just how easy it would be when I noticed who it was. Sergeant Louis. I coughed in humour of the last time we crossed paths. I believe it had something to do with his 'innocent' daughter and I; a young man of 25 was bound to get into a bit of trouble.

The ginger cop looked across, and his face turned sour as soon as his eyes met mine. "You again!" He growled, his eyes narrowing in hatred.

"Hm? You mean me? Oh, sorry, I didn't recognise you! Jim, long time see!" I cheered, as I stood up and outstretched my arms in sarcasm.

"Don't try and fool me around, punk," he spat bitterly, as he drew himself up to his full height of five feet eleven inches. I chuckled; I had another three inches on the man.

"Punk? Is that the best you got? Honestly, I thought you'd have more creativity than that. By the style of your daughter, I'd have thought so." Almost automatically, the officer launched a fist into my jaw, stumbling me slightly, but I instinctively retaliated with a heavy blow to the gut, and the man folded himself over my fist. The waitress' mouth widened, and the officer's partner turned to see what had shocked her. I noticed Myles had flinched behind the spinning rack. I also noticed the presence of another girl, who must of slipped in during my happy confrontation with my dear friend.

Oh God, am I in it now...

Mia

Pleased to see that I still had the knack of communicating more with looks than words, I gasped in shock as the man rolled with the cop's punch, swinging back with a grin that told me instantly that the two men had history.
My prey turned around to see what I was gaping at, and saw his partner reel as the other man fetched him a blow to the jaw. Realising that I was going to loose any hold I had on the guy- and see all my hard work wasted- I thought fast.
Holding his jaw perhaps a little too tightly in my hand, I turned his head so that he was forced to look directly into my wide, innocent eyes. Did I say innocent? Ha!
Leaning in and inhaling deeply his rank odour as though it were the finest French cologne, I felt him struggle in my grasp. "What's wrong?" I asked, voice hurt. "Don't you... want me?" I felt the fight leave him, and loosened my hold just a little. No need to get over-confident.
He tried to speak, but no words came from his gulping mouth, so he just nodded, looking stricken.
I knew I had to keep his attention as well as I could so, resting my chin on his shoulder, I nipped at his ear, tongue tasting the metallic piercing, tracing his harsh jawline. I could feel his cheeks move under my touch as his lips reached for mine, so I granted his wish, not wanting him to become distracted by the impressive fight going on in the corner; wrestling and a slanging match in one - people pay good money to watch this kind of thing, mused a corner of my brain.
Returning to the task in hand - or mouth, as the case may be - we locked lips, my invasive tongue wasting no time in exploring every inch of the newly-conquered territory. He tasted surprisingly good - like cinnamon toast.
My hands were entwined in his lank hair, his strong arms almost pulling me over the counter entirely as he grasped me, pulling us closer. My nails dug into the nape of his neck and he winced a little, but responded with enthusiasm, eager hands working their way none-too-subtly up the inside of my top. I'd had worse encounters, I admitted reluctantly to myself.

Myles

I wobbled on my feet, trying to think of a plan of escape. Both officers were engaged in various irresponsible activities, but the thought of being caught as I fled kept me rooted to the spot.
Mia looked up from her victim just long enough to glare at me, her eyes screaming a message to the effect of 'get out the door!'. I faltered a second longer, then made my move, ducking slightly to remain partially hidden behind the various shelves- enough to pass unnoticed, but not so much as to become conspicuous all over again.
My hand closed around the handle of the shop door, and I felt a spark of excited relief jolt me bodily. The feeling was short-lived.
"Do I know you, mate?" the voice of the policeman oozed grease. I stiffened, turning slowly to face him. Mia tried in vain to regain his attention. Past them, Red got a cross off on the larger officer as he too looked me over.
"I-I-I don't think so."
"No, I'm sure I do." the officer began to pace forward, drawing closer to me. Instinctively, I took a step backwards, and felt the cold glass of the door against my back. The officer grinned maliciously, and lunged for my arm, cuffs in hand. I reacted. He hit the floor before I even knew I had moved.

Ayani

Ayani Vodeza strolls slowly into the Motorway Cafe, the first person to make eye contact with him his the waitress/bartender. She is put off for a second, perhaps because it's rain horrendously outside, and Ayani is perfectly dry. But after a second, she goes back to wiping down the counter.

Ayani takes a second to survey the cafe, a girl sitting at the bar, a man whom had apparently knocked down a police officer. And another man and woman kissing furiously, seemingly indifferent to the surroundings.

He strolls lightly to the bar and acquires a stool next to the girl.

"Excuse me saraza, is this seat taken?" he says smoothly. His Auran Accent catching the girl off-guard (the Auran accent sounds like French and Italian mixed)

"No," she says. "It's not." she sips a mug of something.

"Grazie saraza." he sits on the bar stool. The bartender turns to him,

"Would you like anything hun?" she asks.

"Oh, perhaps some hot coffee if you have it. It's dreadfully cold and wet outside." she pours him a mug of hot coffee. He sips gratefully,

"Ah, parfate, is perfect. Grazie" he says.

The girl seemed to be looking at him, he wondered if she might say something. She wouldn't be the first to ask him about his accent or his clothes, definitely not the first person to question his slightly pointed ears. Which he hid with his black hair under his fedora.

Jackie

Oohh, a bar. Or cafe or whatever! I need a drink...

I walk into the cafe, gun kept at hip, and yawn once I sit next to a guy that I heard has an accent. I glance away and look at the lady at the bar.

"Um...Scotch please?" I ask in my slightly british accent. She nods and goes off to make it.

HA. They don't check age. Awesome.

Ayani

(I'm switching to 1st Person, I can't do 3rd anymore)

The girl next to me orders a Scotch, she has an accent also.

"Oh saraza, your accent. Se ilea, she is beautiful. An English accent no?" I say, sipping my coffee.