fandomtownies | Luke's, Monday

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Luke's, Monday

Eliot had the broom out today, attempting to clean up shards of glass and broken plates with one functional hand. The one in a cast he could use to kinda shove the broom around, but without a mobile thumb, he couldn't really pull it, or grasp it, or pick it up.

Man, he hated thumb injuries.

The kitchen staff was hovering (not literally) in the doorway, peering around the edge of it all in a line like they were cartoon characters, either because they didn't trust that Eliot wasn't actually possessed any more, or (more likely) because Eliot kept glaring daggers at them for not even trying to clean the place up since Thursday. Apparently, they'd spent the last several days hanging out in the breakroom playing bridge. Which was a nice trick, seeing as there were only three of them.

Today's specials
Stump the cook!

Luke's was open.

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Over in the section Eliot had managed to clean, already.

Don't worry, he won't make you help sweep.

It had taken Celia several tries to work up the courage to come back here. Partly because it hadn't been fun the first time, but mostly because she was absolutely mortified by the mess she knew she'd left in her wake.

That feeling was only compounded when she finally did come by, and saw what Eliot was doing. "Good afternoon. May I help?" she asked, offering a shy little wave.

[ugh sorry so late, work was madness today.]

Eliot straightened from where he was attempting to use both the broom and the dustpan with one hand. "Hey," he said. "You're okay." He hadn't really gotten a chance to confirm that yet -- especially since it was hard to make sure someone was alright when you didn't know their name. He looked around the diner with a sigh. "Normally I'd say no, but it ain't easy doing this shit one handed."

"I'm all right," Celia agreed, smiling a little, though it faded fairly quickly. "Oh, but tell me that's not from me," she said worriedly, eyeing his cast. "I'm so sorry, I really didn't want to have to throw you like that but that...thing didn't leave me much choice."

"You don't have to apologize for that," Eliot said. "You were defending yourself, and I've been thrown into worse. 'Sides, the hand happened later."

"I wish I could help, but my magic strictly only allows for self-healing," Celia admitted with a wince. "But this -- " She gestured to the broken glass, and shards began to neatly lift into the air and float back to their rightful places to reassemble. "This I can help with. It's only fair that since I made the mess I should clean it up, self-defense or otherwise."

She glanced at Eliot, once she was sure the glass was going where it should. "I'm Celia, by the way. Thanks for trying to help when he came after me, by the way. I appreciate it."

"Woah!" Eliot jumped back as the glass lifted off the ground and watched, eyebrows nearly at his hairline, as it started to put itself back together. "That is -- one hell of a trick."

Was it sad that his first thought was that Celia could make a great criminal? She could repair any glass she broke breaking into a place, and with the self-healing thing she mentioned, she'd never get caught going to the hospital to get patched up. . . .

"Eliot," he said, shaking himself out of that reverie. "And what was I gonna do, let a student die in my diner? I'd get run out of town on a rail."

"You could always plead possession," Celia offered, actually giggling a little in spite of herself as she carefully reassembled broken glass. The other debris swept itself up and fell into the nearest trashcan in a neat pile. "Which, to be honest, is strange for me, even -- you know, considering." She waved her hand vaguely.

A pause, and then, "And thank you. It comes handy." And even if she didn't know what he was thinking, it wasn't as though criminal activities hadn't crossed her mind a time or two, or even been attempted -- Celia's book collection wasn't entirely purchased outright, after all. Her younger self's conscience had lacked a little bit.

Eliot continued to watch the clean up process, fascinated. "What is that, psychokinesis?" he guessed. "I mean, I'm assuming you're not just ordering another ghost around."

I wanna go back to bed.

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Luke's, Monday

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Talk to Eliot

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OOC