What Happens at a Buffet......Part IX
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What Happens at a Buffet….
An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle
“Just act natural.”
“What?” Haley mumbled as she struggled to open her eyes and get her feet to work.
“Just walk casually,” Jason whispered as she stumbled over her own two feet, but before she could fall on her face and happily curl up on the cafeteria-styled tiled floor and go back to sleep, Jason had his arm around her and was carrying her towards the back hall where she assumed the bathrooms were.
“What’s going on?” she muttered pathetically, giving up on trying to walk and just settled heavily in his arms as her eyelids began to slowly droop shut.
“Fried chicken,” was all he said when she suddenly found herself in a dark room that smelled like Mr. Clean.
“What are we doing?” she asked, forcing her eyes open with a yawn.
“Staying low,” Jason whispered as he carefully set her on her feet.
“In a cleaning closet?” she asked with a sigh and a sad shake of her head, berating herself for opening her big mouth and telling him about all the buffet restaurants that they’d found.
Granted, she hadn’t really had much of a choice, she mused as she bit back another yawn and she reached out, looking for a light switch. When she found one against the cool cement wall she flicked it on, bathing the small closet in fluorescent light long enough to confirm her suspicions that they were definitely in a cleaning closet before Jason reached past her with a sigh and flicked the light back off.
“You really can’t be that paranoid,” she said, sighing heavily as she reached over and flicked the light back on.
“Yet, I am,” he said, flicking it back off.
“Standing here in the dark isn’t going to make a difference,” she said, rolling her eyes with an annoyed sigh as she flicked the light back on.
“It will give us away.”
Light flicked off.
“No, it won’t.”
Flicked back on.
“Yes, it will.”
Light flicked back off.
Shaking her head in disgust, because really this was just too much, she reached over to flick the light back on only to find the stubborn bastard that she loved standing in front of it, blocking her.
“Move,” she said, blindly reaching around him to turn the light back on.
“Fine,” she said, sighing heavily as she gestured for him to get out of her way, not really caring that he couldn’t see the move. “Then let me out.”
“Can’t do that either.”
“You really can though,” she said, trying to push him aside to reach the door to no avail.
“They might take you down in the crossfire,” he explained as she gave up on trying to push him out the way and settled for glaring at him in the dark.
“I don’t care if I get banned,” she reminded him.
“I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that.”
“Well, can you pretend while you move out of the way so that I can go get something to drink and curl back up in the booth for a nap?”
“No, not really,” came the reply that had her lips twitching and wondering why she put up with this man.
“Move,” she said, sighing heavily as she reached up and pushed her glasses back up her nose.
“What will you give me if I do?”
“I’ll let you live,” she said with another sigh.
“And I, ummm, appreciate that,” he said, chuckling, “but I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask for something more substantial.”
She narrowed her eyes on him, wondering if she was about to get stuck spending the weekend baking every cookie recipe in her arsenal, again.
“And what would that be?” she asked, already deciding that if he tried it, that she was going to have to break out her fists or fury and beat him into submission.
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