𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄, doctor strange.

Origins

The one time the man came in, Ana stood behind the counter of Candle Cafe, a dripping wet cloth in one hand as she swirled it around the granite, her reflection shining up at her as she hummed merrily, a small smile tugging at her lips. Closing time had just commenced, and it was her job to tidy up after the never-ending hours of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Grabbing the bottle of Lysol from the cabinet below the counter, she sprayed it across a bare place and swiped the yellow dish towel over it, grinning at her reflection down in it.

Her ringed, brunette hair was pulled up into a messy bun, small fly-aways framing her clear blush face. Her eyes were a crystal grey, wide and large and full of curiosity. Her small button nose upturned at the end, dotted with small brown freckles that spread across her rosy cheeks. Her lips were a light pink, and they were always in something other than a frown. She was a slim person, her white thick-strapped knee-length dress that tied in a bow around her neck covered in her long red apron that was splotched in condiments like paint, tied around her small hips. Her legs were long, making her seem strikingly tall in her black flats.

As she continued to sway and hum to a random tune, she swiped the biscuit crumbs off the table and into the trashcan with a slight swoosh. She flashed a pearly-white smile, walking to the other side of the counter, glancing around at her work. The booths and tables and chairs were spotless, the tile floors newly mopped. She smirked victoriously, rubbing a hand across her forehead where dots of sweat had gathered. She inhaled sharply, the long day catching up with her. The only thing she could think of was returning to her small flat and flopping into her bed.

She jumped slightly when the jingling bell above the door rang through the silent restaurant, and she flipped around when a man walked in, or more like stumbled in, and took a place at the counter silently. Ana cocked her head, confused as she went around the edge of the counter. She looked at the man with an expectant gaze, and the man looked up. His eyes were a swirl of blue and green, dark rings under them from fatigue. His hair was a dark brown, grey streaks above each of his ears. His cheekbones were very visible and gaunt on his slightly pale face, and his lips were a light peach that blended in with his skin tone, his nose straight on his face.

Ana eyed him suspiciously, and he furrowed his brows as he wrinkled his nose expectantly, and he frowned, his eyes somewhat irritated. " Aren't you supposed to serve people?" he said, his deep baritone New York accent full of sarcasm as he grimaced. Ana leaned back in disgust, his attitude revolting.

" Not after work hours, no," she said, her light New York accent tinted with English. The man grunted, staring down at his hands as he tapped his long fingers against the table, glancing around the cafe. Ana finally sighed, seeing as he wasn't leaving anytime soon. " What would you like?" she said, plastering on a fake smile, but her eyes sent glares to the man's forehead. He looked up at her again, furrowed his brows, and inhaled sharply, leaning back against his chair.

" Coffee, please. Mocha," he said, his tone relaxed with a hint of authority. Ana nodded once before twisting on her heel and disappearing into the kitchen to the coffee machine. She could hear the man stand from his seat and walk around, his shoes clacking against the tile floors and echoing ominously.

Pouring the steaming hot coffee into a two-round white coffee cups, she carefully manoeuvred her way to the doors of the kitchen, pushing them open with her foot as the man glanced upward from his spot standing on the floor. Ana flashed a smile at him as she handed the smoking teacup to him, and he grinned tightly as he lifted the cup to his lips, sipping quietly. Ana looked him up and down, taking him in. He was very tall, only a few inches taller than Ana, but Ana was already tall. He was a slim person, but seemed very strong and could take you down if he wanted to. The most interesting thing was his clothes. They were scrubs, obviously, and small blood splotches lined his pants and shirt.

" Surgeon?" Ana said tentatively, the need for conversation becoming desperate. The man glanced at her before nodding slowly, gulping down his coffee. Ana slowly took a sip from hers, waiting expectantly. The man inhaled sharply, turning to face her.

" I'm a neurosurgeon at the New York Hospital, right down the street," he said, his tone improving at previously snapping at her for coffee. Ana nodded, clicking her tongue.

" I'm an orphan working in a cafe, which is right here," she said, chuckling under her breath, though her eyes were sad and distant. The man's features flashed over with sympathy before it disappeared, and Ana thought it was simply a trick of the mind.

They both stood in silence before something trilled, and the man dug his pager from his scrub pants pocket, and his eyes widened with terror at the words.

" I have to go, someone's coding," he muttered quickly, his voice smothered in panic. He downed his coffee quickly before throwing it into the trashcan with deft precision, darting towards the door. He skidded to a stop as he pushed it open, and looked back at Ana, who stared with crinkled brows. He began to dig through his wallet for cash, and Ana shook his head, stopping him.

" It's fine," she said, swatting her hand like it was something in the air. The man stopped, and looked at her with a befuddled expression, before his lips broke out into a small smile and he slipped out the door, the bell jingling behind him. " What's your name?" Ana called out, and the man turned around, grinning softly.

" Steven Strange." And then he left.

That was a year ago.