Cursed Proficiency

3 • Nice To Meet You

Mickael watched as the shy woman awkwardly looked to the ground before slithering around him, heading directly towards the bar with the folded paper and cash in her shaky hand. 

What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he speak?

Mickael's gaze shifted down to the woman's shaking hands, seeing the paper. Not wanting the conversation or the interaction to die, he did his best to come up with a lie to try and lure her back in.

"I saw you," Mickael spoke up, his tongue lingering for a moment as if to think of what to say next. "You were side-eyeing me from your table, and I guess I got curious." 

He cringed for a moment. What if she wasn't looking at him? Then, he would be caught red-handed lying.

"Sorry if that... bothered you." The woman spoke with elegance, interrupting Mickael from his thoughts.

The woman occasionally glanced up to him in the corner of her eyes as she sorted her cash, crinkling the edge of the folded paper. What was that paper?

"No, it didn't bother me at all," Mickael cleared his throat as he spoke up once more. He attempted to seem light-hearted. "I was actually going to buy you a drink." Mickael laughed slightly, trying to break the awkward tension that sat between them. Though, it didn't seem to hit. He immediately fell quiet.

The woman ceased her fiddling as she finally looked up to Mickael, seemingly confused.

A reaction.

"Me?" she questioned, puzzled.

Mickael subtly paused for a moment. Maybe she was getting the wrong impression. Maybe he was getting the wrong impression. Was he making a mistake?

"Yeah," Mickael finally responded, falling quiet for a moment before noticing how truly shaky the woman's hands seemed to be. He decided to move the conversation along. "What are you planning to do with that?"

The woman seemingly scrunched up her face, and her gaze settled on Mickael as she slowly processed his words. "Huh?"

The immortal rubbed the back of his neck as he looked about, a worrisome feeling overcoming him as if he were making a mistake; as if he were being stupid. Was she nervous because of him? Or was she uninterested in him? This woman was very hard to read.

"The paper," Mickael gestured to the folded up paper in the woman's grasp, continuing the conversation before it died completely.

The woman's gaze then shifted down to her folded piece of paper, fumbling with it anxiously. It was as if she finally realized that she was holding a paper. 

"Oh, yeah," the woman's words began to falter as she stuttered. She paused as if to regain her composure or to calm herself down.

Mickael waited patiently; he could wait all day while looking at her. Her aura was quite intriguing but also calming. Something that he hadn't felt in a long while. He wanted to get to know her.

The woman smiled warmly. 

Finally, a smile. Mickael silently thought.

"I was actually planning to apply as a bartender. Mixology is one of my hobbies." The woman leaned against the bar bench, engaging in eye contact with Mickael.

That was a good sign. 

"Well, isn't this just jolly?" Logan wandered over and sat on the bar bench between the pair, etching at one of his nails. He didn't say anything more. He merely observed with a smirk.

Mickael simply side-eyed the punk, choosing to ignore him. Though, as he glanced back to the mysterious but gorgeous woman, he noticed that she had barely paid attention to Logan's appearance.