Would you like a side of questions with that, sir?

[ROBYNNE MIFFLIN]

{{TAG: Donovan}}

Table four, table four... Where the hell was it? This restaurant was so hard to navigate, what with all the customers and waiters wandering around between the cramped tables. She stepped out of the bustling kitchen after recieving her table assignment for the night. She was new, so she only had to work one table at a time. And apparently, her newness showed. She'd spilled several drinks this past week, and broken a plate. But just one! And she was trying to improve her working style... being less clumsy, friendlier to the customers, not that she wasn't anyway.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where table four is?" she asked the hostess, tapping her on the shoulder. The older woman sighed and made a show of putting back the stack of menus she had been holding.

"Please excuse us for a moment, she's new," the woman said to the customers waiting to be seated. Ugh. Why was she making such a big show of this? Robynne wasn't so lost that she needed to be led over to the table. A simple point of the finger would have done just fine. But Robynne just sighed and brushed it off. She should be enjoying this, her first waitressing job, rather than focusing on how people thought of her. She put a smile on her face as the hostess led her over to table four, a small table in the corner where a man sat alone.

"Sir, I'm so sorry if you've been waiting long. Robynne here is new," the hostess said, with a faux smile plastered across her face. Robynne rolled her eyes as the woman walked away.

"Hi, I'm Robynne, and I'll be your waitress for today!" she said, rattling off the script that had been pounded into her head on her first day. "May I start you off with something to drink? I'd reccomend the lemonade, it's really yummy. But actually, you don't look really in the mood for anything like that. Hmmm... maybe coffee? Or Coke, even, it would just make you all awake and stuff. At least, that's what it does to me!" She pulled the notepad out of her apron, pen in hand, waiting for his drink order.

[DONOVAN FAUST]

Donovan was eating alone, as always.

He couldn't even remember why he'd chosen to eat out tonight, anyway - it wasn't like he'd felt the need to treat himself or anything. Upon further inspection of his decision, he reflected he'd probably just gotten sick of TV dinners and Chinese leftovers...or maybe he'd run out. He could never remember the contents of his fridge at any given time, which always made grocery shopping a nightmare for him.

Or maybe, he added silently to his train of thought, he'd chosen to eat out at this expensive restaurant just to give himself a new perspective on the difficult case he was currently forming an argument for. That was, after all, why there was a manila folder open on the table in front of him, and why he was bent so intently over the papers spread out neatly across the tablecloth.

He needed to win this case.

He needed to win every case, though. Losing was not an option he considered.

So lost in thought was he that he was startled from his concentration only by the grating sound of a woman's voice, some elder waitress guiding what appeared to be a rookie over to his table. He almost rolled his eyes. It didn't concern him how long it took for the girl to get to his table; he wasn't exactly sitting about twiddling his thumbs.

Instead of being snide with the woman, though, he offered a weak smile - it was really more of an upward twitch of his pale lips, but that was usually about as much smiling as he ever did, anyway.

"I didn't notice," he told the woman. His voice was somewhat distant, as if his mind was elsewhere, and his manner was fairly aloof; it was clear he didn't care to make eye contact. His carefully expressionless brown eyes flickered upwards to the girl when she was introduced and began to speak, then looked back down at his work, listening on and off to what she said.

"Black coffee would be fine," he told her curtly after her short ramble. He was tempted to ask for vodka as well, but she looked so young - he wasn't sure if she was permitted to serve alcoholic beverages, and Justice forbid he test the boundaries of the law.

[ROBYNNE MIFFLIN]

"Black coffee would be fine."

Black coffee, Robynne scrawled on the order pad, saying the words under her breath. She glanced back at the man, who seemed to be immersed in reading through the stacks of papers he had sprawled across the table in front of him. Why would he bring such seemingly important papers to a restaurant? He could get food on them!

"Sir, I couldn't help wondering what those papers you have there are for. If you really need them, I suggest you put them away." Oh no, that made it sound as if someone would come and take them! She wouldn't want him to think the restaurant was unsafe! "Not that I'm going to take them. Or anyone. Nobody'll take your papers, I just think maybe you should put them away. Or make sure you don't get food on them at least. Not that I think you're messy. Yeah."

She nodded encouragingly at the man then turned around toward the kitchen, ready to grab him his coffee. But, oh, he sure did look so much like that kid in tenth grade. Maybe this man was his dad! She quickly backtracked to the table and swiftly plopped herself down onto the chair across from the man.

"Are you by any chance related to Rahman Abdulraffai?"

[DONOVAN FAUST]

Donovan's eyes had already trailed back to his work, his attention refocusing and redirecting until he had almost forgotten the young waitress's presence...but then she spoke again, and out of the goodness of his heart, Donovan tore his eyes from his work once more.

"Sir, I couldn't help wondering what those papers you have there are for. If you really need them, I suggest you put them away. Not that I'm going to take them. Or anyone. Nobody'll take your papers, I just think maybe you should put them away. Or make sure you don't get food on them at least. Not that I think you're messy. Yeah."

"Work," he replied simply, not being a man of many words - just following her train of thought was difficult. He was silent for a moment after she spoke, almost eerily so, processing every word before he responded. "I'm not a messy eater," Donovan responded after a moment. "I'll be careful."

It was no joke - Donovan was almost always working, even when he was supposed to be having some time for himself. Crime, he reflected, never rested, so there was no reason that he should.

He had been certain that she was going to make her trip to the kitchen for his coffee now (which he sorely needed; he'd been up since 4 AM and going all day long), but apparently that assumption was wrong.

"Are you by any chance related to Rahman Abdulraffai?"

"Um..." He looked up at her, his brow furrowing just slightly in confusion. "No, I'm not." If he was related to someone named Rahman Abdulraffai, he thought to himself, he was pretty sure he would remember...