Twisted Fate || Loki Odinson

33.

Yawning, I grab the warm plate and turn around, the scent of freshly cooked pancakes wafting up as I place it in front of the older lady. "Here's your pancake special with a side of home fries. Anything else for you?"

She looks up at me with a warm and inviting smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Can I get a slice of blueberry pie to go?" 

"Of course. Let me know when you're ready for it," I nod, mirroring her smile.

"Thank you, dear," she replies, her gratitude genuine.

"You're welcome," I say, feeling a brief but meaningful connection with her. 

It's the little things that sometimes make the day bearable.

I turn towards the windowsill and check on the tickets, my mind already moving to the next task. "Cassie." The sound of Scott's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I look over to see him standing in the kitchen doorway, his expression serious. "Can you come to my office for a moment?"

"Uh..." I glance around at my tables, ensuring no one needs anything urgently. The diner buzzes with activity, the clinking of silverware and murmur of conversations creating a familiar backdrop. "All right."

I untie my apron and chuck it under the counter, following Scott into the kitchen and towards his office. The kitchen hums with activity, the clatter of pots and pans is a comforting and routine noise. Once inside his office, the atmosphere shifts, becoming more tense. He gestures for me to shut the door and take a seat, his demeanor unyielding.

I push the door shut and settle into the chair opposite his desk, the wood creaking slightly. "What's going on?" I ask, my stomach tightening with unease.

"An employee approached me this morning and told me he saw you leaving The Leaky Tap after work," he states, his tone heavy with disapproval.

My brows furrow, defensiveness bubbling up. "Yeah, I went to the bar and had a few drinks after I was off."

He scoffs, the sound sharp. "From the sound of it, it was more than a few drinks."

I feel a flush of irritation rise in me, but I try to keep my tone steady. "I mean... yeah, I got pretty drunk, but I was off the clock."

"You were in your work uniform," he counters, his gaze unyielding like he's waiting for me to trip up.

"Yeah, because I had just gotten off, like I said," I remind him, my frustration edging into my voice despite my efforts to stay calm.

"Do you know how that reflects on this diner?" he questions, leaning forward slightly, his eyes boring into mine.

"I didn't do anything embarrassing or illegal, so what does it matter?" I shrug, trying to mask my irritation.

"It matters because what you do outside of this diner affects how people look at me and my employees. If people saw you drinking at the bar and then at work the next day, that doesn't look good on me," he explains, his voice firm and insistent.

The reality of my actions sinks in and I exhale. "Well, I... I suppose I can see that. I just had a rough night and needed to get my mind off things," I admit, my defenses softening slightly.

"I'm letting you off with a warning... Don't let it happen again," he says, his tone final. 

My jaw tightens as I swallow my frustration. "Got it."

"All right, get back to work." He dismisses me with a curt nod. 

Without another word, I rise from the chair, my movements stiff, and leave his office. The moment I'm out of his sight, I roll my eyes, a huff of annoyance escaping my lips.