In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Nineteen: Regroup and Rebrand

        Another night of normalcy in our deserted diner. The desk fan whirrs as the three of us sit in the office, off in our own little worlds. Vince sits and watches his game on the tube TV sat on a stand, leaned over his lap, and blinking as little as possible as though he might miss it in its entirety if he does. Parma sorts bank records, her thin glasses teetering on the edge of her nose as her bracelets jingle with each time she moves her hands. I sit next to Vince, thumbing through a magazine that I had found around here. There's no telling who it belongs to as it's a catalog for restaurant appliances. It's interesting enough to compare prices and features to see which one would, in theory, be the better steal. I am currently rooting for an automatic dishwasher priced at No-Way-Will-I-Ever-See-That-Much-Money-in-Cash-Ever dollars.

Jennifer rolls into the office, patting Vince on the shoulder. "Mona, Tito, there are some people that came in." Vince looks over at me, and I sit up in my chair, setting the catalog down. "I have to get home, classes start up again soon."

"Don't worry, chica," Vince says and stands up to go reach for the TV dial. "Monita."

I check the clock next to Parma. Ten PM. I have to call Miss Pauling before the day is up to give her my final decision. Standing, I forget I'm not on skates for a moment and almost trip over myself from my lack of coordination. Parma holds out her hand, still seated, as if she was going to catch me, and I confirm with her that I'm fine before picking up a pen from her desk and pulling my pad out of my pocket. Late-night foodies aren't too big of a deal; they're usually a group of teenagers who have just come back from a party or school event, typically marching band and sports. I didn't do much in high school as roller skating wasn't a sport that had an active team, but I joined debate for a while before that disbanded due to budget cuts. Not much was there at school aside from class and skipping it.

My feet become as heavy as stones as I look out of the kitchen window to see Medic's head before he sits down. Scout's the loudest out of all of them. I sigh and throw my head back for no reason in particular other than to express how done I am with this. I knew it was a bad idea to let Miss Pauling tell them I was alive. Still, you can't leave someone wondering about that. Vince fires up the stoves and looks apologetic towards me, shrugging as he preps. Shaking out the nerves does nothing for me but my feet begin to move anyway because I'm still on the clock, therefore meaning I am subject to the earning of wages; assuming these guys don't stiff people, that is. If they do, they certainly won't tonight with how desperate they are. I grab menus, getting ready for a long night.

They all sit within booths, Scout, Sniper, and Spy all fitting together when the rest of the guys sit in twos. Medic is the first to notice me, acknowledging me with a smug smile as he rests his head on his hand. Scout turns and looks over the booth seat, calling out to me with a new level of overzealous about him.

"Hey, hey, Miss Fredrickson!" He laughs as he sits back down when I come to the table he shares with Sniper, Spy, Demo, and Soldier. "It's the Scoutmaster, he's back, baby! That uniform fits you pretty well, can I add?"

"No you cannot, and there is no 'Miss Fredrickson' here, only Mona," I sigh, setting down menus in front of them, moving onto the other table with Medic and Heavy on one side, Engie and Pyro the other. Standing in a stupid orange waitress's dress with grease stains on the skirt and minor burn marks all over my hands and arms is, at the very least, absolutely humiliating. This is who I am. This is what I've been doing all of this time. Not one dead person in sight. I shouldn't have bit the hand that feeds me, this is so much more than what a lot of my friends have to work with back home. I should've kept my mouth shut and stayed content with organizing papers in a basement with TF Industries during my free time for pocket change. "I don't understand why you thought this was a good idea, but you're here anyhow."