ᴘᴇʀꜱᴇᴘʜᴏɴᴇ | once upon a time [ EDITING ]

- ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ ɪɴ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏʙʀᴏᴏᴋᴇ.

— ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ ɪɴ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏʙʀᴏᴏᴋᴇ.

Presley manages to park the rental wreck in a tight spot on the side of the main road. She harshly pulls on the handbrake to park the car. The teenager turns the vehicle off and pulls out the keys. She reaches behind to the backseat and pushes her bags down beneath the seats. What someone doesn't see, someone doesn't want to steal. Presley puts her phone in her pocket and steps out of the car. The door slammed shut behind her and she locks the vehicle with the keys. 

The girl looks around town. She was on some sort of main street with shops on each side of the road. There were only a few people walking around, but none of them seemed to pay serious attention to her. Just a few quick looks in her direction and they would continue with their lifes. 

Presley bites her lip. Where could Emma be? Or, perhaps the better question.. where could she find someone who knows where Emma is? 

Then her eyes set on a diner. It was a little bit further back than the buildings around it, leaving room in front of the diner for tables and chairs. The front door of the diner opened and a tall woman, probably somewhere in her early twenties, walks out. She had her brown hair in a curly wave down her back while wearing a red top and dark jeans. The woman put a board down of daily specials by the side of the entrance to the terrace before heading back inside. Presley's eyes shift from the woman disappearing behind the glass door to the letters that were on top of the diner. 

"Granny's. Seriously?"  

Presley rolls her eyes but starts walking towards the diner. It was the best way to start in somewhere public, she thought to herself. She opens the front door of the place and gets inside. Most of the seats in the diner were full of people having lunch together. They were all chatting, but when Presley entered a silence fills the room. All eyes were on her. Doubtful. Hesitant. Wary. 

As an outcast Presley was used to the stares and the distasteful looks that people give her. She learned to block those off with her own armour. Because there was one thing she wasn't willing to do and that was letting people hurt her. Presley reaches for the comfort of her black jacket with different military insignia on them. She holds the leather fabric in her hand and squeezes it. 

She shrugs the looks off, pretending not to notice that she was drawing attention, and walks towards the bar. The brunette woman from outside was now standing behind the bar. She was filling a cup of coffee for a red haired man that was sitting on a barstool. The elderly lady next to her was cleaning used glasses. "Can I help you," she asks briskly. One eyebrow was raised at her as the woman eyes her up and down. She had a scrutinizing gaze that was amplified by her tiny glasses that rest on the tip of her nose.